UC-NRLF 


hfl    1EM 


IIGIQUS  CONFESSIONS 
AN  D  C ON FE  S  SAN TS 


AN)   i      G  -ESON:BURR 


HI    Mi- 


&nna  Eobeean  38tttr 


RELIGIOUS   CONFESSIONS  AND   CONFESS- 

ANTS. 

THE   AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 
THE   JESSOP   BEQUEST. 

HOUGHTON   MIFFLIN  COMPANY 
BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 


RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS  AND 
CONFESSANTS 


RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 
AND  CONFESSANTS  ^  **  * 

WITH    A    CHAPTER    ON   THE 
HISTORY  OF  INTROSPECTION 


BY 

ANNA  ROBESON  BURR 

II 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 


1914 


S 


COPYRIGHT,    1914,   BY  ANNA  ROBESON   BURR 
ALL   RIGHTS    RESERVED 

Published  May  IQI4 


"0  this  gloomy  world ! 
In  what  a  shadow  or  deep  pit  of  darkness 
Doth  womanish  and  fearful  mankind  live!" 


The  Duchess  of  Malfi. 


897583 


PREFACE 

IT  has  been  the  privilege  of  the  writer  to  do  much 
of  her  work  in  the  library  of  the  late  Dr.  Henry  C. 
Lea — its  shelves  still  laden  with  that  material  which 
assumed  so  significant  an  aspect  under  the  guidance 
of  his  distinguished  mind.  Such  surroundings  were 
in  themselves  an  inspiration  and  she  is  grateful  for 
the  kindness  which  procured  them. 

Thanks  are  also  due  for  the  courteous  co-operation 
of  the  librarians  of  the  two  Friends'  Libraries,  of  the 
Presbyterian  and  Methodist  Historical  Societies,  of 
the  Philadelphia  Library,  of  Haverford  College,  of  S. 
Carlo  Borromeo,  and  of  S.  Thomas  of  Villanova. 
Through  the  kindness  of  Dr.  Jastrow,  the  University 
of  Pennsylvania  Library  gave  the  writer  access  to  her 
material  all  over  the  country.  Such  goodwill  has  lent 
the  work  an  ever-increasing  pleasure. 

While  reading  for  an  earlier  study  on  autobiog- 
raphy, the  writer  had  been  impressed  by  the  present 
superabundance  of  works  on  religious  and  mystical 
theory,  side  by  side  with  a  total  absence  of  any  col- 
lation of  the  documents  of  personal  religion.  No  one 
has  apparently  thought  it  worth  his  while  to  examine 
the  foundations  on  which  the  current  elaborate  doc- 
trines are  based.  Some  years  of  investigation  have 
resulted  in  this  book.  If  the  work  has  turned  in 
directions  not  at  first  anticipated,  yet  it  formulates 


viii  PREFACE 

no  theory  except  by  induction  from  the  data  it  fur- 
nishes. In  its  final  position,  it  agrees  with  Hobbes, 
when  he  remarks, — "that  ignorant  and  superstitious 
men  make  great  wonders  of  those  works,  which  other 
men,  knowing  to  proceed  from  nature  (which  is  not 
the  immediate  but  the  ordinary  work  of  God),  ad- 
mire not  at  all. ' ' 

March,  1914. 


CONTENTS 

I.     INTRODUCTORY 3 

II.    CONFESSION  AND  APOLOGIA  ....  19 

III.  INTROSPECTION  :  THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE  71 

IV.  THE  DOCUMENTS 141 

V.     THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  I     ....  171 

VI.    THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  II   .       .       .       .  229 

VII.     THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  III         ...  273 

VIII.     MYSTICISM  AND  ITS  INTERPRETATION  .       .  329 

IX.     THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  I       ...  397 

X.    THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  II     ...  449 

NOTES 491 

BIBLIOGRAPHY  OF  CASES      ....  527 

INDEX                                                         .  549 


RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS  AND 
CONFESSANTS 

I 

INTRODUCTORY 


RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 
AND  CONFESSANTS 


INTRODUCTORY 

ONE  of  the  characteristics  of  the  present  age,  so 
often  accused  of  infidelity,  is  its  interest  in  religion. 
Works  upon  this  subject  were  never  so  many  in  the 
ages  of  faith.  Indeed,  one  may  almost  go  so  far  as 
to  say  that  the  study  of  religion  is  a  study  essentially 
modern.  In  the  past,  men  studied  dogma,  they  studied 
theology,  they  studied  metaphysics  and  mystical  phi- 
losophy, but  they  did  not  study  religion.  For  such 
study  there  is  necessary  not  only  a  knowledge  of  cer- 
tain basic  sciences  very  recent  of  date  in  themselves, 
— such  as  ethnology  and  anthropology,  biology  and 
psychology, — but  also  the  security  of  our  latter-day 
ideals  of  tolerance.  Protected  by  these,  the  writer  on 
religious  topics  has  been  able,  for  the  first  time  in  the 
world's  history,  to  place  his  matter  in  perspective  for 
proper  examination.  The  strict  limitations  imposed 
on  such  work  in  the  past,  with  the  sinister  shadow  of 
the  Inquisition  ever  ready  to  fall  across  his  page, 
produced  in  the  writer  a  fret  and  a  tension  which 
caused  him  too  often  to  be  personal  and  acrimonious  in 


RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 


tone,  while  in  statement  he  remained  safely  indefinite. 
To-day,  his  manner  is  calmer  and  less  controversial, 
while  the  nature  of  his  work  has  tended  to  become  less 
abstract  and  more  concrete,  more  specialized,  and  more 
individual. 

The  present  essay  is  an  attempt  to  handle,  in  a 
broad  way,  some  of  the  more  intimate  aspects  of  man 's 
knowledge  of  himself.  A  chief  element  of  this  knowl- 
edge has  been  his  natural  interest  in  the  question  of 
his  ultimate  destination,  with  his  concomitant  feelings 
and  ideas  respecting  all  that  part  of  his  nature  which 
is  unknown  to  him.  This  interest  in,  this  curiosity 
about,  self,  was  made  the  subject  of  observation  and 
theory  long  before  the  simplest  knowledge  of  physical 
man  had  been  acquired.  But  such  theory  necessarily 
remained  a  priori  for  centuries,  until  the  bulk  of  sci- 
entific facts  increased  sufficiently  to  allow  of  sounder 
methods. 

If  sounder  method  is  possible  to-day,  it  must  be 
borne  in  mind  that  possible  is  the  word.  Many  diffi- 
culties will  occur  to  the  student ;  there  are  many  which 
may  not  occur  to  him.  He  will  easily  recall  the  names 
of  several  recent  books  on  religious  psychology,  and 
he  will  agree  that  their  effect,  on  the  whole,  has  been 
far  from  conclusive,  while  yet  he  may  or  may  not 
realize  that  this  impression  springs  from  their  funda- 
mental weakness  in  the  matter  of  data.  To  do  such 
work  to-day  there  is  needed,  first  of  all,  a  definitive, 
systematic  collection  of  the  available  data  of  personal 
religious  experience,  and  such  a  collection  may  come 
to  the  rescue  of  the  theorist. 

The  material  for  such  data  is  not  wanting;  it  lies 


INTRODUCTORY  5 

embedded  in  the  recorded  history  of  the  human  mind 
for  over  two  thousand  years.  Scattered  in  a  hundred 
corners,  it  has  crumbled  with  the  crumbling  edifice 
of  succeeding  civilizations,  and  the  fragments  that  re- 
main have  been  trodden  under  foot  by  prejudice,  or 
ignored  by  tradition.  Its  presence  has  had  little  sig- 
nificance for  the  exact  mind,  and  as  to  its  value,  opin- 
ions have  fluctuated.  Bacon  held  that  ' '  as  for  the  nar- 
rations touching  the  prodigies  and  miracles  of  reli- 
gions, they  are  either  not  true  or  not  natural,  and  there- 
fore impertinent  for  the  story  of  nature."1  At  the 
same  time,  while  he  decided  that  the  "narrations  which 
have  mixture  with  superstition  be  sorted  by  them- 
selves," he  yet  would  not  omit  them  altogether.  Our 
modern  idea  holds  rather  that  "the  study  of  religion 
is  essentially  psychological.  .  .  .  Whatever  else  can  be 
predicated  of  religion,  we  must  admit  that  it  consists 
of  a  great  variety  of  mental  experiences";2  and  the 
difficulty  of  obtaining  the  facts  concerning  such 
experience — although  acknowledged — constitutes  no 
valid  excuse  for  ignoring  them.  The  student  must 
simply  apply  to  their  examination  certain  important 
correctives,  just  as  he  must  apply  similar  correctives 
to  the  examination  of  any  mass  of  facts.  He  will 
rather  repeat  the  words  of  Montesquieu:  "J'ai 
d'abord  examine  les  hommes  et  j  'ai  cru  que,  dans  cette 
infinie  diversite  de  lois  et  de  mo3urs,  ils  n'etaient  pas 
uniquement  conduits  par  leurs  f  antaisies. ' '  3 

Thus  what  appears  to  be  mere  chaos,  is  not  so ;  and 
through  all  these  passions,  characters,  and  experiences, 
there  operates  the  universal  law  of  the  identity  of  our 
common  nature.  "The  life  of  the  individual,"  says 


6  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

Caird,  "  is  a  sort  of  epitome  of  the  history  of  human- 
ity";4 and  it  must  be  studied  from  this  point 
of  view,  not  forgetting  the  corrective  influence  brought 
to  bear  upon  it  by  the  broader  outlines  of  history. 

If  opinions  as  to  the  value  of  the  material  are  not 
unanimous,  yet  there  has  been  no  doubt  as  to  the  imme- 
diate necessity  for  its  examination.  The  religious  con- 
fessionjfwith  which  it  is  the  main  object  of  this  essay 
to  deal,  is  nothing  less  than  the  first  coherent,  system- 
atie,  voluntary  attempt  at  self -study,  by  which  man 
has  sought  to  determine  the  nature  and  the  limits  of 
his  consciousness.  From  this  first  effort  has  been 
evolved  all  later,  more  complex  religious  ideas,  and 
many  of  the  later  philosophic  ideas.  The  confession, 
therefore,  would  have  a  vital  historical  interest  for 
us  if  it  had  no  other.  But  in  reality  it  has  far 
more.  It  serves  to  lay  bare  the  fundamental  forces  of 
history.  A  recent  historian 5  has  made  a  penetrating 
commentary  on  the  value  of  the  private  record  as  a 
means  of  understanding  public  action ;  while  a  recent 
psychologist6  has  observed  that  the  most  instructive 
human  documents  lie  along  the  beaten  highway.  The 
personal  record,  in  many  cases,  furnishes  the  only 
valid  means  of  observing  the  movement  of  certain 
minds  under  the  pressure  of  given  circumstances.7 
Any  work  upon  the  development  of  the  idea  of  sect 
must  needs  be  built  upon  these  documents,  whose 
existence  alone  has  made  it  possible.  If  any  excuse 
were  needed  for  this  attempt  to  bring  the  alien, 
uncharted  matter  into  the  domain  of  law,  it  will  surely 
be  found  in  the  present  cry  of  the  scientist  for  more 
facts. 


INTRODUCTORY  7, 

11 II  n'y  avait  point  d'emploi  plus  legitime  et  plus 
honorable  de  1  'esprit, "  writes  Sainte-Beuve,  "que  de 
voir  les  choses  et  les  hommes  comme  ils  sont  et  de  les 
exprimer  comme  on  les  voit,  de  decrire,  autour  de  soi 
en  serviteur  de  la  science,  les  varietes  de  1'espece,  les 
divers  formes  de  I'organisation  humaine,  etrange- 
ment  modifiee  au  moral  dans  la  societe  et  dans  le 
dedale  artificiel  des  doctrines.  "8 

To  be  the  servitor  of  science,  in  regard  to  the  study 
of  men's  beliefs,  is,  as  we  have  said,  an  ideal  of  to-day ; 
yet  in  saying  this,  one  must  not  forget  that  the  very 
constitution  of  the  religions  preceding  Christianity 
admitted  of  a  similar  ideal. 

Havet 9  points  out  that  the  ancient  religions,  so  ex- 
acting in  respect  of  cult,  had  comparatively  few  dog- 
mas, thus  leaving  open  a  vast  field  for  those  fruit- 
ful discussions  which  Christianity  forbade.  In  the 
fragments  of  those  discussions  which  remain  to  us, 
there  is  a  freshness  and  often  a  boldness  of  concep- 
tion which  render  them  significant  and  suggestive, 
bringing,  as  they  do,  the  mind  of  the  ancient  student 
closer  to  the  mind  of  the  student  of  to-day.  When 
Manu  speaks  of  self-consciousness  and  egoism  as 
"lordly"  he  joins  in  the  speech  of  Schopenhauer  or 
Nietzsche. 10 

Both  ancient  and  modern  students  recognize  two 
main  approaches  to  the  study  of  religion.  This  force 
in  human  life  is  manifested  in  two  ways:  it  may  be 
observed  in  its  effect  upon  the  mass,  through  its  group- 
manifestation  ;  or  in  its  effect  upon  the  individual, 
through  its  personal,  psychological  manifestation. 
The  gate  of  the  first  approach  has  been  open  for  cen- 


8  EELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

turies;  philosophers  and  historians  have  passed  there- 
by, each  aiding  future  generations,  though  not  al- 
ways in  the  way  he  expected.  The  gate  of  the  second 
approach  has  not  yet  been  opened  to  the  investigator ; 
and  the  difficulties  in  the  way  of  a  valid  study  of 
religion  in  the  individual  cannot  be  over-impressed 
upon  the  reader's  attention. 

The  perplexing  question  of  fundamental  sincerity 
has  been  dealt  with  in  a  preceding  volume.11  When 
the  degree  of  this  sincerity  has  been,  relatively  speak- 
ing, determined,  the  student  is  brought  face  to  face 
with  the  equally  perplexing  problem  of  classification. 
A  fair  degree  of  candour  in  the  personal  revelation  may 
be  admitted ;  and  yet  how  are  the  results  of  such  can- 
dour to  be  rendered  amenable  to  science  ?  Can  they  be 
so  rendered  ?  At  first  sight  nothing  would  seem  more 
impossible  "than  to  find  law,  order,  and  reason  in 
what  seems  accidental,  capricious,  and  meaningless, ' ' 12 
Nevertheless,  no  mean  authority  assures  us  that  this  is 
the  true  work  of  science;  and  while  he  suggests  its 
accomplishment  by  restricting  the  field,  and  by  limit- 
ing its  content  as  much  as  possible,  Caird  adds  that, 
while  the  spiritual  life  is  most  complex  and  difficult  to 
understand,  yet  it  must  be  intelligible ;  for,  if  man  can 
comprehend  the  phenomena  of  the  universe,  he  should 
surely  be  able  to  comprehend  his  own ! 13 

On  the  other  hand,  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that 
what  is  fortuitous  or  casual  in  itself  does  not  enter 
into  the  domain  of  science.  Law  is  only  "that  con- 
stant rule  to  which  a  given  order  of  facts  is  subservi- 
ent"14 It  may  be  determined  from  observation  of 
the  facts  themselves,  when  they  are  properly  limited, 


INTRODUCTORY  9 

classified,  and  compared.  The  broad  general  prin- 
ciples of  science  in  regard  to  this  classification  and 
comparison  must  be  brought  to  bear  upon  this  mate- 
rial. Human  specimens  must  needs  be  subjected  to  the 
same  treatment  as  botanical  or  marine  specimens. 
They  must  be  gathered,  identified,  labelled,  and  made 
accessible  to  study.  And  human  specimens  have  this 
permanent  disadvantage  as  specimens,  that  in  the 
nature  of  things  they  cannot  present  data  mechan- 
ically consistent.  The  data  are  in  fact  accidental 
and  capricious  to  a  degree,  varying  in  different  ex- 
amples, but  always  sufficiently  to  daunt  the  orderly 
mind. 

The  first  task,  therefore,  must  be  to  determine  the 
constant  factors  in  each  case,  analyze  the  elements 
thereof,  and  classify  these  elements  for  comparison. 
It  has  been  remarked  of  the  comparative  method  that 
it  can  be  properly  employed  only  where  the  things 
compared  resemble  each  other.  Yet  the  things  com- 
pared must  also  differ  from  one  another  or  there 
would  be  no  need  to  compare  them.  The  presence  of 
a  definite  religious  emotion,  then,  is  the  first  factor 
whose  presence  should  determine  the  use  of  a  docu- 
ment for  this  work.  Various  as  may  be  the  manifesta- 
tions of  this  emotion,  it  must  exist  in  a  recognizable 
form. 

The  second  factor,  not  less  important,  must  be  the 
first-hand  composition  of  the  document — it  must  be 
the  work  of  the  person  himself.  Such  limitation  per- 
mits us  to  include,  beside  formal  autobiography  or 
confession,  the  material  contained  in  journals,  day- 
books, diaries,  intimate  letters,  as  well  as  that  which 


10  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

may  be  found  in  philosophical  disquisition  or  in  theo- 
logical apologia — asking  only  that  it  be  religious,  that 
it  be  personal,  and  that  it  be  composed  by  the  subject 
himself.  Those  "  young  adventurers  who  produce 
their  performance  to  the  wise  ear  of  Time, ' ' 15  have 
equal  right  to  be  heard  in  this  regard  with  the  medi- 
aeval mystics  or  the  self -analyzing  philosophers,  since 
all  are  moved  by  the  same  spirit. 

"Once  read  thine  own  breast  right, 
And  thou  hast  done  with  fears; 
Man  gets  no  other  light, 

Search  he  a  thousand  years. 
Sink  in  thyself!  there  ask  what  ails  thee,  at  that  shrine!"  ^ 

And  it  is  with  the  seekers  at  this  shrine  that  we  are 
here  to  deal.  It  would  seem  obvious  that  the  study 
of  religion  in  its  group-manifestation  must  precede 
and  lay  the  foundation  for  any  study  of  the  individual 
manifestation,  yet  it  were  well  at  the  outset  to  remind 
one 's  self  of  this  truth.  No  overcharged  attention  to 
a  task  apparently  more  novel  should  cause  the  student 
to  minimize  the  greater  relative  importance  of  the 
historical  treatment,  or  to  undervalue  its  effect  upon 
the  work  at  hand.  The  individual  may  be  properly 
understood  only  through  a  study  of  his  group,  his 
nation,  his  race.  ' '  If  religion  is  veritably  to  be  based 
upon  experience/'  Dr.  Watson  reminds  us,  "no  one 
is  justified  in  citing  the  partial  and  fragmentary  con- 
sciousness of  this  or  that  individual."17  He  must 
generalize  rather  from  a  whole  than  from  a  partial 
experience. 

Such  work  as  we  are  to  do  in  this  place  must  needs 
be  supplementary  to  any  broad,  general  study;  and 


INTRODUCTORY  11 

the  work  and  conclusions  of  the  greater  religious  his- 
torians must  take  precedence  of  it,  must  form  its 
proper  corrective.  By  no  means  does  this  fact  lessen 
the  value  of  an  investigation  into  the  individual  mind, 
it  rather  heightens  such  value.  By  specialization,  a 
service  is  rendered  to  all  those  engaged  in  generalizing, 
and  who  are  perpetually  in  search  of  suitable  material. 
In  the  following  pages  we  shall  endeavor  to  contrib- 
ute to  the  work  of  religious  investigation  an  amount 
of  data,  which  has  at  least  the  merit  of  having  been 
collated  under  a  salutary  method.  Should  it  be  im- 
possible to  arrive  at  any  conclusions  as  to  the  major 
problems  presented  by  the  subject,  such  conclusions 
may,  perchance,  be  suggested  to  the  mind  of  some 
future  investigator. 

Our  business,  then,  to  put  it  briefly  as  may  be,  is  to 
study,  by  means  of  induction  through  individual  ex- 
amples, the  manifestation  in  human  life  of  that  force 
to  which  tradition  has  assigned  the  name  religion. 
This  is  no  new  idea,  for  just  so  do  we  study,  by 
means  of  its  manifestations,  that  physical  force  to 
which  we  have  assigned  the  name  electricity.  Both 
of  these  forces  proceed  from  unknown  and  invisible 
causes.  Both  of  them  are  observable  only  through 
their  direct  and  indirect  effects.  Both  of  them  are 
continuously  present,  though  dormant,  in  the  very  at- 
mosphere around  us;  from  both  of  these  silent,  in- 
visible forces,  the  proper  agent  will  on  an  instant 
draw  the  leaping  spark.  Our  prejudices  in  the  past 
have  so  hampered  us,  by  attaching  a  factitious  and 
sacrosanct  character  (almost  in  the  nature  of  the 
savage  tabu)  to  the  manifestations  of  the  force  known 


12  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

as  religion,  that  we  are  much  more  deficient,  scien- 
tifically speaking,  in  our  knowledge  thereof. 

We  have  not  weighed  it,  nor  measured  it,  nor  stud- 
ied, in  any  fulness,  the  conditions  which  give  rise  to 
it,  nor  noted  when  we  may  expect  it,  and  when  we 
may  not  expect  it.  Our  reverence  forbade  us  to 
experiment  in  the  ages  when  experiment  might  have 
been  of  value.  But  if  reverence  once  hampered  us, 
irreverence  to-day  hampers  us  still  more.  The  sub- 
ject of  electricity  and  electrical  forces  does  not  tempt 
the  untrained;  nor  will  the  ignorant  gather  an  au- 
dience if  he  theorize  thereon.  But  upon  the  obscure 
subject  of  religion,  any  fool  is  sure  of  an  audience 
to  his  folly.  Our  irreverence  toward  our  fellow-men 
has  cast  them  helpless  into  the  power  of  the  sciolist 
and  the  charlatan,  who  have  added  to  the  confusion 
by  obscuring  the  facts.  For,  upon  this  vital  subject 
there  appears  to  prevail  a  constitutional  inability  to 
preserve  what  Delacroix  has  called  'Tintegralite  du 
fait."18 

To  the  facts,  then,  and  to  the  facts  alone,  we  must 
turn  and  return.  The  subjective  can  only  be  reached 
objectively;  these  cases  must  be  handled  in  the  same 
way  as  are  other  natural  phenomena.  A  full  list 
must  include  emotional  natures  and  philosophical  na- 
tures, objective  types  and  introspective  types,  normal 
cases  and  abnormal  cases.  Many  writers  have  dealt 
with  religion;  we  shall  seek  to  know  the  religious. 
Tiny  as  the  individual  may  be,  he  is  at  least  a  part,  by 
means  of  which  the  mind  may  better  grasp  the  whole. 

As  for  the  proposed  method,  it  is  similar  to  that 
now  advocated  by  students  of  English  law.  Law  had 


INTRODUCTORY  13 

been  taught  as  philosophy  was  taught,  from  textbooks 
of  broad  general  principles.  Science  has  to-day 
tended  to  substitute  the  inductive  method;  and  from 
groups  of  cases,  the  student  is  now  required  to  in- 
duce a  principle  and  to  make  the  application.  There 
is  no  reason  why  such  method  should  not  be  equally 
valid  for  the  study  of  religion,  even  though  the  law 
has  the  immense  advantage  in  having  had  its  data  me- 
chanically collected,  for  centuries  past,  into  systematic 
records. 

The  difficulties  in  the  way  of  so  collecting  the  reli- 
gious data  are  very  great,  but  they  are  not  insur- 
mountable ;  they  but  demand  a  special  word  of  warn- 
ing. The  great  temptation  in  all  work  of  this  nature 
is  to  carry  it  too  far.  Human  specimens  are  not  ma- 
rine specimens,  and  human  cases  are  not  law  cases; 
and  if  it  be  important  that  the  student  should  be  able 
to  see  the  conclusions  they  present,  it  is  even  more 
important  that  he  should  be  able  to  refrain  from  see- 
ing what  is  not  there.  For,  when  he  falls  into  that 
error,  he  at  once  lowers  himself  to  the  level  of  those 
recent  writers  on  mysticism,  whose  method  has  thus 
effectually  checked  all  progress  in  the  direction  of 
truth. 

There  is  much  to  repay  the  patient  collector  of 
these  facts.  In  her  preface  to  Obermann,  George 
Sand  says,  most  beautifully,  that  "for  all  profound 
and  dreamy  souls,  for  all  delicate  and  openminded 
intelligences,"19  the  rare  and  austere  productions  of 
human  suffering  have  an  importance  even  greater 
than  that  of  history.  Anything,  she  adds,  which  as- 
sists us  to  understand  such  suffering  must  ultimately 


14  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

assist  us  to  ameliorate  it.  And  this  voices  the  stimu- 
lating, the  sustaining  hope  of  such  an  inquiry  as  the 
present. 

There  is  need  to  point  out  that  the  inductive  method 
may  yield  a  very  different  result  from  the  selective 
method.  It  is  one  thing  to  evolve  a  theory,  and  after 
it  has  taken  shape,  to  seek  for  its  confirmation  by 
means  of  some  ten  or  twenty  carefully  selected  cases ; 
it  is  quite  another  to  start  without  any  a  priori  con- 
ceptions,— simply  to  gather  together  all  available  data 
bearing  on  the  subject,  and  then  to  note  how  the  cases 
so  gathered  may  confirm,  contradict,  or  comment  upon 
each  other.  It  is  one  thing  to  select  a  special  set  of 
facts  to  confirm  your  special  theory;  it  is  another  to 
determine  which  theory  will  best  account  for  all  the 
facts.  Through  a  peculiar  misconception  as  to  the 
nature  of  the  material  at  hand,  the  first  of  these 
methods  has  been  used,  practically  without  exception, 
in  all  work  on  this  subject;  and  used,  moreover,  by 
those  who  must  needs  have  been  aware  of  its  technical 
unsoundness.20  And  it  is  doubtless  for  this  if  for 
no  other  reason  that  the  new  religious  psychology  has 
produced,  as  a  whole,  such  negligible  results.  Once 
more  we  must  repeat  that  a  definitive  collection  of 
the  data  of  religion  must  needs  take  precedence  of  any 
theory. 

The  essential  difficulty  in  treating  this  subject  is 
just  that  it  is  religion — and  religion  is  the  product  of 
centuries  of  emotion,  and  indissolubly  woven  into  the 
very  fabric  of  the  theorist's  race  and  temperament, 
prejudices  and  traditions.  The  very  word  implies 
idealism ;  the  very  conception  colors  the  mind  dealing 


INTRODUCTORY  15 

with  it.  Thus,  that  writer  whose  mystical  tempera- 
ment inclines  him  to  believe  in  the  influence  of  this 
force  for  good,  will  select  his  evidence  according  to 
its  beauty  and  balance ;  while  that  writer  whose  cyni- 
cal temperament  inclines  him  to  believe  in  the  in- 
fluence of  this  force  for  evil,  will  select  his  evidence 
according  to  its  ugliness  and  abnormality.  One 
writer  hopes  that  doubt  will  be  cleared  and  faith  stim- 
ulated by  such  investigation;  while  another  believes 
that  by  the  same  investigation  ancient  superstition  will 
receive  its  death-blow. 

No  other  scientific  work  seems  to  strike  its  roots  thus, 
through  the  intellect,  into  the  obscure  depths  of  heredi- 
tary tendency  and  emotional  bias.  It  seems  too  much 
to  ask  of  us — being  what  we  are,  the  children  of  our 
fathers — to  handle  the  material  bearing  on  the  reli- 
gious life  coolly  and  impersonally.  Yet  an  approach 
to  impersonal  coolness  must  be  made  if  any  real  work 
on  this  topic  is  ever  to  be  done.  Man,  hitherto, 
has  made  it  the  battleground  of  his  passions ;  surely,  in 
this  tolerant  age,  he  should  be  able  to  go  soberly  to 
and  fro,  and  decide  how  much  of  it  is  worth  his  con- 
test. The  field  lies  open  to  certain  fundamental  and 
searching  queries.  What  are  the  manifestations,  in 
an  individual,  of  the  force  we  name  religion?  What 
reasons  have  we  for  thinking  these  particular  mani- 
festations are  due  to  that  particular  force  and  not  to 
some  other  force?  How  do  we  know  them  to  be  re- 
ligious? Since  we  can  judge  this  force  only  through 
its  effects,  and  since  each  one  of  us  during  his  life 
can  come  into  contact  with  but  few  of  these  effects, 
how  can  we  be  sure  that  we  are  correct  in  ascribing 


16  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

them  to  that  cause  ?  What  are  the  recognizable  symp- 
toms of  the  religious  experience? 

These  are  vital  questions,  and  it  is  worth  while  to 
attend  to  them,  even  if  most  of  us,  being  what  we  are, 
should  fail  to  give  an  answer.  At  least,  we  may 
examine  the  material  at  hand,  since  such  examination 
is  a  part  of  "  the  proper  study  of  mankind. " 

A  word  as  to  the  plan  of  approach:  Since  the  mo- 
tive-power of  this  documentary  material  lies  in  cer- 
tain impulses  and  faculties,  which,  in  themselves,  have 
had  no  small  influence  over  the  trend  of  literature  and 
philosophy,  the  first  two  sections  of  this  work  have 
been  devoted  to  their  better  understanding.  The  im- 
pulse toward  confession,  and  the  faculty  of  introspec- 
tion by  which  such  impulse  is  usually  accompanied, 
are  here  discussed  in  their  Jmmder  .asp&cts.  The  rec- 
ords are  next  approached  through  an  analysis  of  their 
main  characteristics  and  are  related  to  the  groups  or 
sects  from  which  they  have  emanated.  Then  the  data 
in  the  records  are  classified  under  separate  heads,  in 
such  manner  that  the  reader  himself  may  follow  the 
progress  of  the  religious  experience  in  every  phase, 
from  its  first  indication  to  its  termination.  A  thor- 
ough comprehension  of  underlying  conditions,  together 
with  the  cases  which  they  have  produced,  is  essential 
to  the  reader's  grasp  of  the  final,  theoretical  sections. 
Distinct  as  these  seem  in  treatment  and  manner,  their 
conclusions  are  based  upon  the  preceding  material — 
without  which  they  must  lack  stability  and  authority. 
The  bearing  of  the  data  on  the  fundamental  question 
of  the  existence  and  meaning  of  religious  instinct,  is 
the  raison  d'etre  of  its  collection  and  of  this  book. 


II 

CONFESSION  AND  APOLOGIA 


I.  1.  Confession  in  ancient  religions,  Egyptian,  Baby- 
lonian, Islamic,  Vedie,  Manu. 

2.  Buddhistic,  Greek,  Hebrew. 

3.  The  early  Church,  Origen. 

4.  Rite    of    Exomologesis,    libelli,    Loyola,    Abelard, 

Othloh. 

5.  Augustin  and  his  imitators. 

6.  Port-Royal,  Petrarch. 

II.  1.  The  confessional  impulse;  publicity  as  privacy. 

2.  Relation  of  thought  and  speech. 

3.  Power  of  ideas;  exaggeration;  Macaulay,  Shelley, 

Morley. 
III.  1.  The  classic  apologia. 

2.  Rufinus  and  Jerome;  the  personal  note. 

3.  Middle  Ages,  testamenta,  apologia,  confessiones. 

4.  The  mystics  and  their  records. 

5.  Hamilton  and  the  Reynolds  Pamphlet. 

6.  Development  of  the  modern  personal  apology. 


II 

CONFESSION   AND   APOLOGIA 

MOST  of  us  are  so  well  accustomed  to  the  phenomena 
of  our  conscious  being  that  its  common  miracles  of 
thought  and  emotion  no  longer  rouse  astonishment. 
Now  and  again,  however,  one  of  us  will  call  the  others 
to  some  appreciation  of  these  imperious  wonders,  as 
Stevenson,  when  he  found  the  universal  ideal  of  duty 
" strange  to  the  point  of  lunacy."1  The  uneasi- 
ness of  thought  concealed,  the  pain  of  having  some- 
thing "  on  one's  mind,"  the  relief  when  one  is  rid 
of  it — these  rank  surely  among  our  most  familiar 
mental  sensations,  without  which  no  one  of  us  can 
live  for  long.  Yet  how  often  do  we  ask  ourselves  why 
this  should  be  ?  Why  is  there,  for  most  of  us,  an  un- 
easiness in  the  fact  of  concealment,  and  why  does  the 
act  of  confession  bring  so  definite  a  relief?  "What  is 
the  reason  that  our  thoughts  are,  on  the  whole,  so 
difficult  to  hide,  and  so  easy  to  avow? 

People  exist,  of  course,  in  whom  this  impulse  counts 
for  little ;  to  whom  concealment  is  more  natural  than 
avowal.  Yet  this  temperament  is  rare  and  is  regarded 
as  apart  from  the  common  human  type.  And  what 
is  the  reason?  Is  nature  a  moralist  in  this  respect, 
laying  some  vital  prohibition  on  the  hiding  of  the 
truth  ?  Whence  spring  those  impulses  which  urge  us 

19 


20  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

to  tell  what  we  know  ?  That  we  are  so  urged  is  matter 
of  human  history,  and  is  traceable  long  before  the  time 
religion  caused  the  impulse  to  crystallize  into  the 
shape  of  ritual. 

To-day  we  associate  the  idea  of  confession  wholly 
with  confession  of  sin,  and  with  that  group  of  ideas 
concerning  penitence  and  submission.  And  yet  its 
presence  in  that  group  is  not  readily  accounted  for. 
Has  human  nature  elaborated  an  idea  having  a  source 
purely  artificial  and  ritualistic;  or  rather,  has  ritual 
seized  upon  and  elaborated  an  idea  sprung  from  a 
fundamental  need  of  human  nature? 

To  the  impulse  toward  confession  and  its  evolu- 
tion, much  in  literature  is  owing,  and  this  fact  is  a  suf- 
ficient warrant  to  justify  any  formal  enquiry  into  its 
nature  and  origin.  Nor  could  there  be  a  better  intro- 
duction to  such  an  inquiry  than  an  historical  survey 
of  its  presence  in  its  technical  religious  form.  Brief 
as  this  survey  will  be,  it  should  at  least  serve  to  con- 
nect in  the  reader's  mind  the  auricular,  with  the  writ- 
ten confessions  of  the  past;  a  formal  act  of  penitence 
and  submission,  with  that  spontaneous,  individual, 
even,  if  one  will,  rebellious,  movement  of  the  suffering 
human  soul. 

The  rite  of  confession  of  sin  in  the  Christian  Church 
has  a  direct,  concrete  bearing  on  the  genesis  of  the 
written  confession,  and  its  significance  is  shown  by  its 
great  antiquity.  Public  confession  of  wrongdoing  was 
current  in  the  ritual  of  the  ancient  religions,  although 
holding  no  such  important  place  therein  as  it  came 
later  to  acquire  in  the  Christian  ritual.  The  confes- 
sion-idea, however,  will  be  found  manifest  in  some 


CONFESSION  AND  APOLOGIA  21 

very  curious  and  suggestive  forms.  In  the  religion  of 
ancient  Egypt,  for  instance,  it  is  connected  with  that 
elaborate  trial  of  the  soul  after  death  of  which  we 
possess  full  records.  The  dead  soul  was  obliged  to 
make  a  curious  "plea"  or  "negative  confession,'* 
when  it  came  before  Osiris  and  forty-two  other  judges 
in  Amenti.2 

"  I  have  not  told  falsehoods,"  pleaded  the  soul, 
awaiting  judgment,  "I  have  not  done  any  wicked 
thing.  ...  I  have  not  murdered.  ...  I  have  not 
done  fraud  to  men.  ..."  And  so  on,  through  a 
catalogue  of  acts  and  deeds,  ending,  *  *  I  am  pure  .  .  . 
I  am  pure  ...  I  am  pure!" 

This  formula  appeared  to  have  a  cleansing  and 
absolving  significance,  and  was  evidently  not  intended 
to  be  taken  literally.  Then  followed  a  positive  confes- 
sion addressed  to  the  gods  of  the  underworld.  "  I 
live  upon  right  and  truth,"  the  soul  declared.  .  .  . 
"I  have  performed  the  commandments  of  men.  .  .  . 
I  have  given  bread  to  the  hungry  man  .  .  ,"3  And 
the  same  idea  was  repeated  in  a  litany  or  hymn  to 
Osiris,  which  formed  part  of  the  ceremony  of  the 
soul's  reception.  Each  verse  ends,  "For  I  am  just 
and  true,  I  have  not  spoken  lies  wittingly  nor  have 
I  done  aught  with  deceit."  4  After  such  formulas  the 
soul  was  weighed  and  admitted. 

The  Babylonian  religion  had  a  conventionalized 
form  of  confession  which  does  not  appear  to  have 
expressed  any  individual  appeal,  although  the  Baby- 
lonian penitential  hymns  contain  certain  forms  of  con- 
fession of  suffering,  wherein  the  supplicant,  who  has 
failed  to  fulfil  the  law,  bewails  his  sin.5  But  there 


22  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

is  little  likeness  to  any  modern  spiritual  confession  in 
these  forms,  nor  in  that  avowal  of  guilt  which  was 
required  by  the  ritual  of  Zoroastrianism.6  The  faith 
of  Islam  is  too  objective  to  make  any  such  requirement 
of  confession  of  sin  as  it  made  of  fighting  for  the 
Prophet.  The  Koran  makes  but  an  insignificant  ref- 
erence to  this  spiritual  need;  and  in  truth,  humility 
was  not  insisted  upon  by  Mahomet  save  under  certain 
special  conditions.  It  is  interesting  to  contrast  Islam, 
in  this  respect,  with  the  various  religions  of  India, 
whose  deeply  introspective  character  caused  them  to 
lay  great  stress  on  the  idea  of  self-examination  and 
confession  of  sinful  act  and  thought. 

This  is  clearly  developed  in  the  collections  of  Sacred 
Books.  Manu  says :  * '  In  proportion  as  a  man  who  has 
done  wrong  himself  confesses  it,  even  so  far  is  he 
freed  from  guilt  as  a  snake  from  its  slough. ' ' 7  There 
will  also  be  found  in  one  of  the  Vedas  (the  ceremonial 
code  of  the  Brahmans)  the  statement  that,  "when  con- 
fessed, the  sin  becomes  less  because  it  becomes 
truth."6  The  Mahavagga  of  the  Palis  contains  the 
sentence:  "For  this  is  called  progress  in  the  dis- 
cipline of  the  Noble  One  [i.e.,  the  disciple  of  Buddha], 
if  one  sees  his  sin  in  its  sinfulness,  and  duly  makes 
amends  for  it,  and  refrains  from  it  in  future."  9 

Upon  the  idea  of  the  value  of  self-examination  were 
founded  the  practices  of  the  Buddhist  "Samgha" — a 
confraternity  of  monks,  who,  at  stated  intervals,  made 
confession  one  to  another  according  to  a  fixed  form.10 
Such  a  rite  is  familiar  to  the  Christian,  who  will  not 
have  forgotten  that  it  is  advocated  by  St.  James,  in  no 
uncertain  words.11  To  find  that  the  earlier  Buddhist 


CONFESSION  AND  APOLOGIA  23 

doctrines  had  so  clear  an  idea  of  the  need  for  self- 
study  and  confession  as  an  aid  to  religious  develop- 
ment, would  seem  to  prove  that  the  religions  of  India 
had  passed  through  their  subjective  period  long  before 
the  Western  world  came  into  contact  with  them ; 12  and 
before  such  ideas  as  these  crystallized  into  mere  for- 
malism. The  naturally  introspective  cast  of  the  Orien- 
tal mind  tended  to  adopt  all  such  religious  practices, 
although  they  have  later  developed  the  more  mystical 
at  the  expense  of  the  less. 

Definite  public  confession  was  enjoined  by  the 
Greeks  under  certain  circumstances,  when  it  was  ad- 
dressed to  an  oracle  or  to  a  priest.  "In  the  days  of 
Socrates, "  recounts  Plutarch,  "Lysander  consulted 
the  oracle  at  Samothrace,  and  was  told  by  the  priest  to 
confess  the  worst  actions  of  his  life.  'Is  it  thou  who 
commandest  this,'  he  asked,  'or  the  gods?'  The 
priest  replied,  'It  is  the  gods.'  'Then  at  once  retire,' 
said  Lysander,  'that  I  may  answer  the  gods!'  " 13 

This  anecdote  displays  a  typical  situation  as  re- 
gards the  confession;  i.e.,  the  priestly  effort  to  make 
use  of  it  as  a  weapon  for  the  benefit  of  the  hierarchy, 
with  the  ensuing  resentment  of  a  certain  kind  of 
penitent.  Moreover,  it  is  precisely  this  Lysander-type 
whose  influence  has  been  set  against  the  practice  from 
the  beginning  and  continues  until  the  present  day.  A 
masterful  man  is  willing  to  confess  to  God,  but  not  to 
the  priest;  and  had  there  been  more  examples  of  this 
temperament,  the  control  of  the  confessional  would 
have  lapsed  more  slowly  into  priestly  hands.  Early 
ideas  of  submission  and  of  discipline,  with  the  early 
lack  of  individualism,  made  this  control  inevitable; 


24  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

but  that  Lysander  and  his  like  existed  and  must  be 
reckoned  with,  cannot  be  ignored  when  the  origin  of 
the  written  confession  is  to  be  discussed.14 

From  very  early  times,  the  Jews  made  confession 
on  the  eve  of  Day  of  Atonement.  The  form  which 
they  recited  differs  little  from  that  employed  by  Chris- 
tianity; and  involved  an  act  of  atonement,  just  as, 
later  on,  the  penitent  will  be  found  making  a  rich  gift 
to  the  Church.  But  the  Hebrew  confession  was  less  in- 
dividual than  national;  the  people,  as  one  penitent, 
could  and  did  make  confession  of  their  sin.15  From 
the  evidence  of  the  Old  Testament,  this  movement 
seems  to  have  sprung  from  a  deep  and  spontaneous 
emotion  of  patriotism;  and  its  impressiveness  had, 
doubtless,  much  to  do  with  its  later  influence  over 
the  penitential  system  of  the  Church.  The  emotional 
Aramean,  who  beat  his  breast  and  confessed  his  sin, 
presented  a  more  vivid  picture  of  remorse  than  the 
pagan  world  was  accustomed  to  behold.  Thus,  many 
of  the  rites  and  formulas,  which  served  to  heighten  the 
emotional  appeal  of  Christianity,  were  retained  there- 
in, despite  their  origin. 

The  Jewish  confession  does  not  seem  to  have  been 
often  a  written  document;  but  preserved  its  public 
and  national  character.  Unquestionably,  this  was  at 
first  also  the  character  of  the  Christian  confession. 
It  was  enjoined  by  the  Church  as  a  public,  penitential, 
and  disciplinary  formula,  without  any  individual  sig- 
nificance whatever,  and  this  fact  must  be  remembered 
when  the  reader  plunges  into  the  vast  literature  of  the 
Christian  ritual.  There  was  no  need  for  Lysander  to 
protest  in  those  days.  By  the  time  public  confession 


CONFESSION  AND  APOLOGIA  25 

of  sin  had  become  a  regular  sacrament  of  the  Church, 
its  disadvantages  were  manifest  and  its  use  had  begun 
to  create  scandal;  while  to  regularize  the  practice  by 
private  confession  had  become  inevitable.10  The  pe- 
riod of  transition,  according  to  scholars,  is  somewhat 
vague ;  for  the  Church  long  wavered  between  her  defi- 
nite dogmatic  necessities  and  the  authority  of  certain 
texts,  which,  though  clear  in  their  general  meaning, 
were  yet  not  specific.17 

In  the  first  and  second  centuries  confession  pre- 
ceded baptism.  "The  pardon  symbolized  by  the 
baptismal  rite,"  says  Dr.  Lea,18  "was  only  to  be 
earned  by  a  cleansing  of  the  heart,  confession  of  sin 
to  God  and  earnest  repentance.  ..."  This  confes- 
sion, which  was  supposed  to  be  public  and  voluntary, 
was  to  be  rewarded  by  a  mitigation  of  that  penalty 
which  the  sinner  incurred  as  discipline,  at  the  hands 
of  the  Church.19  Nor  would  the  Church,  even  at  this 
date,  have  permitted  so  high-handed  an  action  as  that 
of  Lysander :  she  was  already  jealous  of  her  authority. 
"Public  confession  and  public  penance  were  the  only 
process  then  recognized  by  the  Church;"  while  Ori- 
gen20  in  his  "Homilies"  recommends  the  penitent  to 
lay  bare  his  soul  to  some  expert  in  whom  he  has  confi- 
dence. 

It  appears  to  be  the  influence  of  Origen,  rather  than 
the  action  of  Pope  Calixtus,  which  systematized  defin- 
itively the  rite  of  confession.  The  former  had  in- 
stituted it  in  218  A.D.  ; 21  but  the  rite  of  Exomologesis, 
as  it  is  called,  and  as  it  appears  in  the  old  Armenian 
service-books,  was  but  a  repetition  of  the  rite  of  bap- 
tism, involving  confession,  but  involving  much  else 


26  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

beside.  The  confession-idea,  in  reality,  was  therefore 
but  a  part  of  the  whole  penitential  system — it  had  no 
such  importance  as  it  afterwards  received,  and  some 
historians  even  make  no  separate  mention  of  it.22 
Origen  planned  the  different  steps  and  stages  of  pen- 
ance as  "contrition,  satisfaction,  and  self -accusation 
or  confession."23  During  the  transition  period,  to 
which  we  have  just  alluded,  this  confession  varied. 
Sometimes  "it  was  private  before  the  bishop  or  priest, 
sometimes  public  before  the  whole  congregation, 
Public  confession  was  demanded  of  persons  who  were 
guilty  of  grievous  public  sins";  unless  the  recital  of 
such  sins  would  tend  to  create  scandal.  In  other 
words,  the  bishops  were  required  to  use  their  own 
judgment;  in  special  cases  they  are  found  consulting 
their  diocesan  counselor,  or  asking  the  advice  by 
letter  of  their  brother-bishops. 

Such  was  the  situation  regarding  confession  of  sin, 
in  which  the  penitent  Christian  convert  of  the  first 
and  second  centuries  found  himself.  The  public  re- 
cital of  his  crimes  was  no  doubt  even  then  largely  con- 
ventional, consisting,  as  it  now  does,  in  the  repeti- 
tion of  a  set  formula.  But  his  vital  offences  were 
obliged  to  have  a  private  hearing ;  and  this  latter  prac- 
tice so  personal,  so  intimate,  fed  the  Church 's  growing 
need  of  power  to  knit  together  her  isolated  con- 
gregations. For  this  reason,  if  for  no  other,  the 
practice  of  auricular  private  confession  was  encour- 
aged.24 Yet  so  many  of  the  devout  shared  the  objec- 
tion of  Lysander  that  progress  in  this  direction  was 
felt  to  be  provokingly  slow;  the  cases  remaining 
scanty,  indeed,  even  in  the  third  century.25  The 


CONFESSION  AND  APOLOGIA  27 

custom  was  held  to  be  salutary  for  the  penitent,  and  a 
wholesome  exercise  in  the  development  of  self-re- 
straint, but  since  Dr.  Lea  writes  that  it  was  far  from 
common  as  late  as  850  A.D.,  one  may  judge  of  its  in- 
frequency  in  the  days  of  Augustin. 

The  name  of  the  great  Bishop  brings  us  without 
further  parley  to  the  immediate  point  of  departure 
between  the  spoken  and  the  written  confession. 
While  his  influence  on  the  latter  is  profound,  it  formed 
but  a  part  of  his  general  influence  on  the  whole  pen- 
itential system  of  the  Church;  while  the  breadth  and 
force  of  this  personal  and  intellectual  influence  is 
difficult  to  overestimate.  "In  the  Decretum  of  Gra- 
tian,  no  less  than  607  canons  are  taken  from  his  works. 
St.  Paul  furnished  but  408.  It  was  on  Augustin 
rather  than  on  Paul  that  the  schoolmen  built. " *6  So 
writes  the  historian,  not  omitting  to  note  that  in  the 
"Confessiones,"  Augustin  had  laid  a  foundation  upon 
which  not  only  the  Church,  but  the  whole  world  of 
thought  was  to  build. 

The  modern  student  of  philosophy 27  sees  in  Augus- 
tin "a  virtuoso  of  self -observation  and  self -analysis "; 
and  to  the  open-minded  reader  his  greatest  book  is 
charged  with  the  vital  power  of  literary  genius,  and 
full  of  the  zeal  and  color  with  which  genius  informs 
a  new  idea.  This  literary  quality  must  not  be  for- 
gotten, because  it  is  a  factor  only  recently  acknowl- 
edged as  responsible  for  the  book's  success.  To  find 
in  publicity  all  the  sacredness  of  the  confessional,  is 
Augustin 's  new  idea;  and  his  genius  pours  forth  his 
sin  and  his  humility,  his  love  and  his  joy,  "in  the  ears 
of  the  believing  sons  of  men."  While  it  is  easy  to 


28  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

realize  the  effect  upon  the  sensitive  mind  of  such  con- 
fidences as  these,  and  to  understand  how  literature  at 
large  came  to  regard  them,  yet  their  immediate  result 
was  not  literary  but  theological,  heightening  the  im- 
portance of  Exomologesis  in  the  eyes  of  the  Church. 

There  has  never  been  a  shorter  and  more  inevi- 
table road  to  power  than  that  furnished  by  the  confes- 
sional.28 The  rule  laid  down  by  Gregory  of  Nyssa 
"mitigated  all  penance  to  those  persons  who  volunta- 
rily revealed  any  sin  not  before  known,  and  who  sought 
a  remedy. "  29  Gradually  the  practice  became  regular- 
ized after  the  penitent  had  been  taught  the  means  of 
duly  expressing  his  humility.  The  word  confessio 
meant  also  memoria,  the  burial-place  of  a  martyr,  or 
the  shrine  of  a  reliquary ;  and  in  this  manner  the  idea 
of  revealing  something  precious  and  hidden  became 
identified  with  the  idea  of  a  self -revelation. 

It  is  not  easy  to  state  when  the  practice  of  writing 
the  confession  developed;  doubtless  in  the  beginning 
it  was  the  necessary  result  of  the  distances  which 
separated  the  members  of  those  early  isolated  con- 
gregations. Libelli  (as  these  written  records  were 
called)  came  to  be  read  aloud  in  church  to  spare  the 
personal  mortification  of  the  penitent.30  St.  Basil, 
who  advocated  this  custom,  states  that  he  received  such 
a  written  record  from  a  woman  in  Caesarea,  of  high 
rank  but  very  evil  life, — who,  in  this  manner,  laid  con- 
fession of  her  sins  before  the  Lord.81 

In  the  ninth  century,  Robert  of  Le  Mans,  when  sick 
unto  death,  sent  a  written  statement  of  his  sins  to  the 
Bishop,  and  received  absolution  in  the  same  way.32 
But  by  the  thirteenth  century  the  written  records  were 


CONFESSION  AND  APOLOGIA  29 

forbidden,  and  the  rule  finally  established  that  all  con- 
fession must  be  auricular.  Dr.  Lea,  however,  reminds 
us  that  the  practice  itself  did  not  become  annually  ob- 
ligatory on  the  faithful  until  the  year  1216,  in  the 
reign  of  Pope  Innocent  III.33 

With  the  history  of  auricular  confession  this  study 
has  little  to  do.  After  it  has  been  related  to  the 
special  document  with  which  it  is  our  business  to 
deal,  the  evolution  of  the  practice  does  not  greatly  con- 
cern us.  The  fathers  differed  widely  in  their  opinion 
of  its  value,  and  these  opinions  furnish  a  suggestive 
commentary  upon  their  personalities.  Abelard  is  not 
sure  it  is  always  desirable ;  St.  Bernard  is  never  weary 
extolling  its  virtues.3*  Long  after  private  confession 
had  superseded  the  older  public  form,  that  form  sur- 
vived when  men  made  confession  to  one  another,  in 
crises  where  no  priest  was  to  be  had.35  This  act  had 
the  warrant  of  St.  James,  and  more  than  one  autobiog- 
raphy of  the  Middle  Ages  make  mention  of  the  oc- 
currence. "When  the  expected  day  of  battle  came," 
writes  Loyola,  "he  made  his  confession  to  one  of  the 
nobles  who  had  often  fought  by  his  side,  and  who,  in 
turn,  also  confessed  to  him." 36  To  a  similar  impulse 
is  due  Abelard 's  letter,  "Historia  Calamitatum"; 
while  Abbot  Othloh  of  St.  Emmeran  writes  a  detailed 
account  lest  death  should  prevent  him  from  making  a 
full  oral  confession.37  No  better  proof  could  be  given 
of  the  penitent's  deep  'humility  and  sincere  repent- 
ance. Other  mediaeval  expedients  show  the  depth  of 
this  feeling.  The  nun,  Maria  Maddalena  de'  Pazzi, 
was  used  to  kneel  in  the  chapel  and,  after  repeating 
certain  psalms,  to  recite  aloud  her  faults  of  the  day, 


30  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

addressing  herself  directly  to  God.  In  a  phraseology 
full  of  touching  humility  and  beauty,  she  accused  her- 
self of  negligence  and  of  preoccupation  with  things 
of  the  flesh.  Her  very  simplest  thoughts,  she  felt, 
were  wholly  unworthy  of  her  Lord.  "Deja,  mon 
Dieu,  la  nuit  arrive,  et  je  n'ai  rien  fait  encore  sans 
vous  offenser!"38  was  her  avowal.  And  no  doubt 
there  were  many  to  follow  her  pious  example. 

The  intensity  of  this  desire  to  confess  will  be  felt 
by  even  the  most  casual  student  of  these  days.  Au- 
gustin's  influence,  both  literary  and  theological,  had 
been  to  vitalize  all  penitential  practices  with  the 
breath  of  emotion,  and  to  stimulate  them  by  his  liter- 
ary genius.  His  work  lent  the  penitent  a  sacredness 
which  he  has  not  lost  even  to-day ;  a  sacredness  which 
Augustin  felt  to  be  inherent  in  his  own  humility  and 
love  of  the  Divine.  No  cold  array  of  dogmas  could 
possibly  have  roused  the  sinful  man  to  a  sense  of  his 
sinfulness,  as  does  this  personal  contact  with  the  soul 
of  another  man  who  is  at  once  his  fellow-sinner  and 
his  guide.  What  the  Church  owes  Augustin  on  this 
one  count  is  incalculable,  since  he  provided  a  means 
whereby  the  Lysanders  of  this  world  may  be  brought  to 
their  knees  without  a  loss  of  self-respect.  That  there 
are  yet  other  sources  affecting  both  the  production  and 
the  character  of  these  documents,  cannot  be  forgotten, 
and  they  are  to  receive,  in  their  turn,  full  considera- 
tion at  our  hands.  Yet,  when  all  is  said  and  done,  it 
may  be  doubted  if  they  are  more  powerful  than  the 
personal  appeal  of  the  "Confessions."  The  author's 
understanding  of  human  nature  is  equal  to  his  pity, 
and  both  are  based  on  real  experience.  No  figment  of 


CONFESSION  AND  APOLOGIA  SI 

life  had  he  lived — the  Bishop  of  Hippo !  He  knew  the 
horror  of  the  sinner  and  the  exaltation  of  the  saved. 
He  had  realized  to  the  full  a  Vedic  saying,  "that, 
when  confessed,  the  sin  becomes  less,  because  it  be- 
comes truth" :  and  he  felt  in  his  own  proper  person  the 
"purifying  influence  of  public  confession"  by  which 
' '  hope  in  lies  is  forever  swept  away. ' ' 39 

In  treating  his  " Confessions"  as  a  perfect  type  of 
this  document,  one  desires  to  do  away  with  those 
clouds  which  the  misinterpretation  of  centuries  has 
caused  to  dim  its  brilliant  surface.  Perfect  con- 
fession is  indeed  rare  and  difficult  and  distrusted  of 
men.  According  to  Ramon  de  Penafort  it  must  be 
"bitter,  speedy,  complete,  and  frequent."40  So  hard 
is  it  for  an  active,  objective  mind  to  grasp  the  princi- 
ples of  self-examination  that  it  tends  to  confuse  the 
practice  with  an  unhealthy  self-depreciation.  Along 
with  reverence  for  Augustin,  distrust  of  Augustin's 
introspection  has  gone  hand  in  hand  for  centuries, 
and  it  has  so  permeated  many  minds  that  we  find  the 
edition  prepared  for  general  reading  has  most  of  the 
self -study  expurgated.  It  is  a  shock  to  the  Church,  it 
is  a  shock  to  the  average  reader,  to  find  so  great  a 
figure  making  an  avowal  of  this  and  that,  with  such 
a  great  humility.  But  to  another  type  of  mind  this 
avowed  kinship  is  as  the  breath  of  life;  nor  can  Au- 
gustin have  lacked  the  knowledge  that  herein  lay  the 
great  value  of  his  work.  No  book  has  been  more 
studied,  and  to  less  purpose;  no  book  has  been  more 
read,  and  is  less  really  known.  The  world,  for  a 
thousand  years  and  more,  has  tried  to  open  these  doors 
without  a  key.  Just  as  in  the  case  of  Jerome  Cardan's 


32  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

very  different  but  equally  candid  life,41  the  world  has 
been  obliged  to  wait  until  science  gave  it  both  the  facts 
and  the  knowledge  of  how  to  apply  them,  which  it 
needed  to  elucidate  the  writer's  statements. 

Meanwhile,  a  mountain  of  exegesis,  criticism,  and  so- 
called  interpretation  has  been  piled  upon  the  "Con- 
fessions." The  favorite  attitude  of  critic  and  com- 
mentator insists  that  the  "Confessions"  are  not  auto- 
biographical at  all  and  were  never  intended  by  the 
author  to  be  thought  so.  The  Church  is  very  strong 
upon  this  view,  chiefly,  it  would  seem,  to  preserve  the 
great  Father's  sanctity;  and  in  order  that  the  vulgar 
shall  not  have  the  satisfaction  or  the  scandal  of  be- 
lieving that  he  lied,  or  stole,  or  dwelt  "in  a  chaldron 
of  unholy  loves."  As  he  is  St.  Augustin,  argues  the 
Church,  he  cannot  have  done  these  things.  He  must 
have  exaggerated  his  trifling  peccadilloes,  because  we 
have  canonized  him.  The  logic  here  is  the  logic  of  the 
cleric,  but  its  effect  has  so  deeply  permeated  the  his- 
tory of  the  subject  as  to  have  an  unfortunate  result 
for  the  written  confession  in  general.  For  Augus- 
tin 's  supposed  exaggeration  has,  of  course,  been  made 
a  text  for  the  exaggeration  of  his  followers,  without 
the  churchly  reasoning  being  taken  into  account. 

Quite  apart  from  questions  of  hierarchical  policy, 
Augustin  has  suffered,  with  many  another,  from  that 
passion  of  the  commentator  for  the  involved,  indirect 
explanation,  invented  by  himself,  instead  of  the 
simple,  direct  explanation  furnished  by  the  words 
of  the  subject.42  Even  in  the  English  standard  edi- 
tion, the  translator  is  found  to  have  made  the  impor- 
tant discovery  that  the  "Confessions"  are  only  "con- 


CONFESSION  AND  APOLOGIA  33 

fessions  of  praise. "  This  is  based  on  an  observation 
of  Augustin  in  his  exposition  of  the  Psalms,  that 
* '  Confessions  of  sin  all  know,  but  confessions  of  praise 
few  attend  to."  These  words,  together  with  the  un- 
dercurrent of  worship  and  praise  carrying  along  the 
music  of  the  prose,  satisfy  this  editor  that  Augustin 
did  not  intend  to  tell  all  about  himself. 

One  is  roused  in  these  latter  days  to  a  weary  im- 
patience when  it  comes  to  combating  such  artificial 
views  as  these,  but  it  must  be  done,  since  they  prevent 
us  from  seeing  our  subject  as  it  really  is.  From 
the  standpoint  of  reverence — which  should  have 
weight  with  many — it  would  seem  very  little  to  listen 
and  believe  what  Augustin  tells  us.  "We  know  his 
heart  to  beat  with  ours,  we  have  the  best  of  human 
reasons  to  feel  his  truth  and  his  sincerity;  let  us  be 
confident,  then,  that  he  did  what  he  says  he  did,  and 
that  he  confessed  his  sins  when  he  declares  that  he 
confessed  them.  The  words  are  there  in  all  their 
poignancy,  and  the  man  who  wrote  them  did  not  write 
for  the  purpose  of  hiding  his  real  meaning.  More- 
over, it  is  not  difficult  to  decide  whether  or  not  the 
"Confessions"  form  a  genuine  autobiography.  We 
have  but  to  compare  the  body  of  facts  which  the  book 
contains  with  the  body  of  facts  obtainable  from  other 
sources.  If  the  book  be  not  intended  as  an  autobiog- 
raphy, then  these  facts  will  necessarily  be  fewer  and 
less  essential  than  the  outside  facts;  and  we  should 
be  able  to  gain  just  as  clear  a  picture  of  the  man  if  he 
had  never  written  any  confessions  at  all. 

A  rapid  examination  of  the  different  chapters  will 
show,  better  than  any  words,  how  exceedingly  rich 


34,  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

they  are  in  personal  data.  In  his  first  book  Augnstin 
presents  a  minute  analysis  of  his  childish  development, 
not  omitting  such  details  as  his  prayer  to  God  that 
he  might  not  be  flogged.43  Book  II  contains  a  study 
of  the  crisis  of  puberty;  and  after  that  a  careful 
description  of  his  education.44  Book  III  opens  with 
one  of  the  most  striking  pictures  in  all  literature  of  the 
effect  of  life  and  art  upon  a  vivid,  youthful  imagina- 
tion; its  new  joy  in  ideas,  and  chiefly  in  the  drama, 
whence  came,  he  declares,  "my  love  of  griefs/'45  If 
his  purpose,  indeed,  was  not  primarily  autobiograph- 
ical, why  these  analyses  ?  Whence  these  details  ?  They 
serve  no  purpose  in  the  scheme  of  a  "confession  of 
praise. "  Let  the  reader  compare  them  with  Rous- 
seau ;  or  their  vitality  of  ideas  with  the  similar  youth- 
ful vitality  displayed  in  such  letters  as  those  of  Shel- 
ley 46  or  the  young  Goethe,  and  he  will  see  that  the  re- 
ligious purpose  has  not  been  allowed  to  interfere  with 
the  intention  of  sincere  self -study.  Later,  in  depicting 
his  period  of  temptation  through  the  senses,  Augus- 
tin's  self -observation  is  remarkably  full  and  valuable. 
He  tells  of  his  indifference  to  perfume,  his  fondness  for 
music,  his  delight  in  beautiful  imaginings  and  colors, 
and  "that  vain  and  curious  longing"  which  he  terms 
the  "lust  of  the  eye  for  things  hidden." 47  There  are 
similar  details  given  in  such  highly  secular  studies  as 
Cardan's,48  and  the  "De  Profundis"49  of  Oscar 
Wilde,  and  for  the  same  reason,  i.e.,  that  the  writer 
may  "be  known  to  the  reader  as  he  really  is.  Augus- 
tin's  whole  book,  in  truth,  loses  meaning  if  it  be  re- 
garded in  the  sense  insisted  upon  by  the  religious  world 
as  that  of  a  mere  penitential  handbook  of  prayer  and 


CONFESSION  AND  APOLOGIA  35 

praise.  Such  prayer  and  praise  it  contains  in  full 
measure,50  but  they  are  intended  to  be  secondary  and 
should  be  so  regarded. 

Moreover,  the  power  and  influence  of  Augustin 's 
"Confessions"  over  the  world  of  literature  has  been 
maintained  for  no  other  reason  than  their  sincerity 
and  truthful  information.  Prayer  and  praise  have 
their  own  beauty  and  place,  but  they  make  no  such 
universal  appeal  to  man  as  do  the  works  which  add 
to  his  stock  of  knowledge.  In  vain  has  the  Church 
warned  the  faithful  that  he  must  not  dare  to  suppose 
Augustin  lived  in  sin  simply  because  he  says  that  he 
did;  the  human  heart  knows  better.  It  knows  that 
for  one  exaggeration  of  an  error,  a  man  will  write 
ten  understatements.  It  feels  exactly  what  Augustin 
meant  when  he  cried  out  to  God;  "Accept  the  sacri- 
fice of  my  confession  by  the  agency  of  my  tongue. ' ' 51 
And  it  echoes  and  reechoes  the  words  of  his  humility 
through  all  the  years  to  the  present,  when  yet  another 
sinner  repeats  them:  "A  man's  very  highest  moment 
is,  I  have  no  doubt,  when  he  kneels  in  the  dust  and 
beats  his  breast,  and  tells  all  the  sins  of  his  life. ' ' 52 

"What,  then,  have  I  to  do  with  men  that  they  should 
hear  my  confession  ? ' '  Augustin  asks  of  future  genera- 
tions. "A  people  curious  to  know  the  lives  of  others, 
but  slow  to  correct  their  own. ' ' 53  To-day  we  wonder 
if  his  wildest  dreams  showed  him  to  what  extent  this 
estimate  was  true.  The  effect  of  the  "Confessions" 
during  certain  eras  became  a  sort  of  spiritual  conta- 
gion ;  and  a  volume  would  be  all  too  small  to  hold  its 
manifestations.  Of  M.  de  Saint-Cyran  the  Port-Roy- 
alist, we  read,  for  instance,  that  he  "plunged  and  re- 


36  KELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

plunged,  lost  himself  in  this  writer. ' ' B*  Sainte-Beuve 
speaks  with  weariness  of  "toute  cette  serie  d'ouvrages, 
qui  sont  les  l Confessions'  de  St.  Augustin  seculari- 
sees  et  profanees"; 65  while  he  compares  its  influence 
in  literature  to  one  other  only, — that  of  the  man  with- 
out God,  Montaigne. 

In  one  of  the  most  beautiful  of  his  familiar  letters,56 
Petrarch  describes  the  effect  upon  himself  of  an  ex- 
perience which  in  his  day  was  practically  unique,  the 
ascent  of  a  mountain.  For  us  to-day,  who  rejoice  in 
the  large  freedom  of  nature,  to  whom  no  peak  ap- 
pears unconquerable,  it  is  hard  to  realize  what  such  an 
action  meant  in  the  fourteenth  century.  Petrarch's 
ascent  of  Mont  Ventoux  has  been  called  an  "epoch- 
making  act,"  but  our  modern  mind  finds  itself  less  in- 
terested in  the  deed  than  in  the  thoughts  which  the 
poet  took  with  him  to  that  windy  height.  ' '  At  first, ' ' 
he  writes,  "owing  to  the  unaccustomed  quality  of  the 
air  and  the  effect  of  the  great  sweep  of  view  ...  I 
stood  like  one  dazed.  I  beheld  the  clouds  under  our 
feet,  and  what  I  had  read  of  Athos  and  Olympus 
seemed  less  incredible  as  I  myself  witnessed  the  same 
thing  from  a  mountain  of  less  fame.  ...  Then  a  new 
idea  took  possession  of  me,  and  I  shifted  my  thoughts 
to  a  consideration  of  time  rather  than  place.  *  To- 
day it  is  ten  years  since,  having  completed  thy  youthful 
studies,  thou  didst  leave  Bologna.  ...  In  the  name  of 
immutable  wisdom,  think  what  alterations  in  thy  char- 
acter this  intervening  period  has  beheld!'  ...  I  am 
not  yet  in  a  safe  harbor  where  I  can  calmly  recall  past 
storms.  The  time  may  come  when  I  can  review  in  due 
order  all  the  experiences  of  the  past,  saying  with  St. 


CONFESSION  AND  APOLOGIA  37 

Augustine,  'I  desire  to  recall  my  foul  actions  and  the 
carnal  corruption  of  my  soul,  not  because  I  love  them, 
but  that  I  may  the  more  love  thee,  0  my  God ! '  " 57 
How  naturally  did  these  words  of  Augustin  rise  in 
Petrarch's  heart, — how  readily  did  he  yield  himself  to 
that  poignant  influence !  "I  rejoiced  in  my  progress. ' * 
he  proceeds,  "mourned  my  weaknesses,  and  commis- 
erated the  universal  instability  of  human  conduct. 
.  .  .  The  sinking  sun  and  the  lengthening  shadows  of 
the  mountain  were  already  warning  us  that  the  time 
was  near  at  hand  when  we  must  go.  ...  While  I  was 
thus  dividing  my  thoughts,  now  turning  my  attention 
to  some  terrestrial  object  that  lay  before  me,  now  rais- 
ing my  soul,  as  I  had  done  my  body,  to  higher  planes, 
it  occurred  to  me  to  look  into  my  copy  of  St.  Augus- 
tine's *  Confessions/  a  gift  that  I  owe  to  your  love, 
and  that  I  always  have  about  me.  ...  I  opened  the 
compact  little  volume,  small,  indeed,  in  size,  but  of 
infinite  charm,  with  the  intention  of  reading  whatever 
came  to  hand.  .  .  .  Where  I  first  fixed  my  eyes  it  was 
written : — •'  And  men  go  about  to  wonder  at  the  heights 
of  the  mountains,  and  the  mighty  waves  of  the  sea, 
and  the  wide  sweep  of  rivers,  and  the  circuit  of  the 
ocean,  and  the  revolution  of  the  stars,  but  themselves 
they  consider  not/  '  It  would  seem  to  us  who  read 
these  words  that  the  revelation  which  came  on  the  top 
of  Mont  Ventoux  to  the  first  of  modern  men  is  hardly 
less  important  than  that  which  came  to  the  lawgiver 
on  Sinai.  All  about  him  were  spread  the  glories  of 
this  world,  and  they  were  as  nothing  compared  to  the 
wonder  of  self.  ' '  I  closed  the  book, ' '  he  adds, '  '  angry 
with  myself  that  I  should  still  be  admiring  earthly 


38  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

things,  who  might  long  ago  have  learned  even  from 
the  pagan  philosophers  that  nothing  is  wonderful  but 
the  soul.  ...  I  turned  my  inward  eye  upon  myself, 
and  from  that  time  not  a  syllable  fell  from  my  lips 
until  we  reached  the  bottom  again.  Those  words  had 
given  me  occupation  enough.  .  .  . " 58 

In  this  passage  the  world  may  almost  be  said  to  come 
of  age;  the  mind  of  man,  if  we  permit  Petrarch  to 
personify  it  for  us,  attains  maturity.  The  touch  of 
Augustin  has  led  many  another  to  that  threshold  since, 
but  no  one  has  described  the  crisis  more  beautifully. 

"The  face  of  all  the  world  is  changed,  I  think, 
Since  first  I  heard  the  footsteps  of  thy  soul 
Move  still,  oh,  still,  beside  me  .  .  ."  <"> 

has  been  the  cry  of  the  devout  heart  to  the  Bishop 
of  Hippo,  from  almost  every  reader  of  his  great  "Con- 
fessions." Later  in  his  life,  Petrarch  definitely  imi- 
tates them,  and,  by  the  practice  of  self-examination, 
"laid  open  the  secret  uncleanness  of  my  transgres- 
sions,"60 not  once  but  many  times.  And  from  Pe- 
trarch's day  it  shall  be  our  task  to  mark  the  footsteps 
of  the  saint,  as  he  walks  through  these  pages  beside 
the  souls  of  men. 

With  the  appearance  of  Augustin 's  book,  a  means 
was  indicated  to  the  sincere  and  introspective  man, 
whereby  he  might,  as  it  were,  make  his  confession  di- 
rect to  God.  Such  a  man  must  have  felt  very  early 
the  inadequacy,  for  his  soul's  needs,  of  the  auricular 
confession;  and  that  he  did  so  feel  is  shown  by 
the  rapid  growth  of  the  written  record.  Dr.  Lea 61 
has  fully  determined  (though  the  question  is  somewhat 


CONFESSION  AND  APOLOGIA  39 

beside  our  present  business)  that  the  salutary  effect 
of  confession  largely  ceased  when  addressed  in  private 
to  a  single  priest.  Too  much  power  had  been  deliv- 
ered into  priestly  hands;  while  the  confession  itself 
tended  to  lose  spontaneity.  Similar  objections  may 
be  raised  to  the  questionnaire  method  in  general, 
wherever  it  obtains,  and  whether  it  be  applied  by  re- 
ligion or  by  science,  by  the  confessor,  or  by  the  psy- 
chologist. 62 

But  at  the  moment  this  question  does  not  concern 
us.  What  we  wish  to  emphasize  is  the  recognition 
by  Augustin,  in  the  fourth  century,  of  a  fundamental 
psychological  fact,  and  his  own  admirable  use  of  it 
for  the  purpose  of  leading  souls  to  God.  From  this 
recognition  we  may  date  the  appearance,  in  litera- 
ture, of  the  * '  Conf essant ' '  himself.  The  term  is  used 
and  sanctioned  by  Bacon  in  order  to  escape  the 
ambiguity  of  the  word  ' '  Confessor, "  which,  as  we  have 
seen,  may  indicate  both  the  penitent  and  the  priest  to 
whom  the  confession  is  addressed.  From  this  time  on, 
we  shall  make  use  of  Bacon's  term  in  discussing  the 
person  with  whom  it  is  the  object  of  this  book  to 
deal.  The  confessant,  as  he  appears  in  these  pages, 
is  personally,  at  least,  the  direct  result  of  the  influence 
of  Augustin. 

That  human  impulse  to  "cleanse  the  stuff 'd  bosom 
of  that  perilous  stuff  which  weighs  upon  the  heart, ' ' 63 
first  really  understood  by  the  Bishop  of  Hippo,  is  re- 
sponsible for  more  than  one  philosophic  and  literary 
tendency.  Reading  the  "Confessions"  from  this 
point  of  view,  the  author's  subtlety  of  understanding 
seems  freshly  amazing,  so  does  it  outrun  the  develop- 


40  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

ment  of  the  surrounding  civilized  world.  Modern  to 
the  last  degree,  both  in  its  expansions  as  in  its  reti- 
cences, it  proves  at  least  the  familiarity  of  the  idea 
of  self -study  to  the  more  cultivated  minds  of  that 
time.  Dr.  Lea  has  exhaustively  portrayed  the 
Church's  effort  to  utilize  this  human  impulse  in  a 
social-religious  attempt  to  bind  together  its  congrega- 
tions; but  he  nowhere  suggests  that  such  an  attempt 
was  other  than  instinctive.  It  seemed  simply  a  part 
of  the  natural  effort  at  unification,  for  the  purpose  of 
self-preservation.  If  we  know  all  about  each  other's 
sins  and  errors,  then  we  must  stand  and  fall  to- 
gether. A  solidarity  is  at  once  formed,  based  on 
mutual  understanding  and  mutual  leniency,  and  this 
solidarity  was  the  pressing  and  immediate  need  of  the 
Church  for  several  centuries.  Later  conditions  tended 
to  conventionalize  this  idea  into  a  ritual,  but  in  this 
universal  human  impulse  the  Church  found  a  weapon 
which  it  did  not  scruple  to  use  for  its  own  purposes 
and  the  purposes,  supposedly,  of  Heaven. 

How  may  one  best  define  this  universal  human  im- 
pulse? Though  we  know  it  to  be  influential  upon  al- 
most all  branches  of  literature,  yet,  by  scholars,  it  has 
been  practically  ignored.  "All  men  have  a  natural 
impulse  to  communicate  their  inward  feelings  and  sen- 
sations," writes  a  modern  investigator.  "The  desire 
to  'tell  all  about  it9  produces  intense  satisfaction  of  the 
emotions.  Suppression  of  it  involves  a  tension  .  .  . 
and  a  general  uneasiness.  Criminals  are  not  seldom 
led  by  this  impulse  to  confess  offenses  committed  long 
before.  This  impulse  is  quite  a  normal  one,  and  be- 
longs in  some  measure  to  every  man." 64  The  writer 


CONFESSION  AND  APOLOGIA  41 

adds  that  in  poets  and  artists  this  feeling  is  apt  to  be 
intensified,  although  he  does  not  tell  us  why ;  and  our 
ease-list  more  or  less  confirms  his  observation.  In  the 
simple  fact  of  suppression,  involving  tension  and  un- 
easiness, lies  the  whole  religious  situation  of  the  con- 
verted individual. 

The  practice  of  written  confession,  as  we  have  seen, 
composed  in  heart-searching  privacy,  permits  the  con- 
fessant  to  gain  all  the  benefit,  all  the  exaltation,  of 
the  confession-idea,  without  the  humiliation  attend- 
ing upon  the  auricular  form;  it  encourages  self -disci- 
pline and  self-knowledge,  without  weakening  the  in- 
dividual will.  So  long  as  the  Church,  recognizing  the 
soul's  impulse  to  "tell  all  about  it,"  made  use  of  that 
impulse  for  the  health  of  the  soul  itself,  just  so  long 
was  a  direct  means  provided  for  a  human  need. 
But  the  moment  that  the  Church  began  to  use  the 
confession-idea,  if  only  partially,  for  its  own  bene- 
fit and  that  of  its  confessors,  at  once  the  practice  de- 
generated into  tyranny  of  a  peculiarly  hateful  sort. 
No  necessity  is  there  to  repeat  in  these  pages  the  de- 
tails of  that  tyranny  and  the  protests  against  it ; 65 
the  reader  sees  for  himself  at  once  that  the  independent 
mediaeval  mind  must  needs  have  found  another  chan- 
nel for  its  impulse  to  "tell  all  about  it."  Even  Au- 
gustin,  in  the  fourth  century,  knew  this;  and  under 
his  influence  the  written  confession  sprang  into  being, 
supplying  in  a  measure  the  place  of  that  general, 
public  avowal  which  prevailed  in  the  naif  beginnings 
of  the  early  Church. 

For  public  opinion — to  which  such  a  record  is  con- 
fided— is  safer  than  the  seal  of  the  confessional. 


42  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

Men  may  securely  tell  their  sins  to  a  collective  body 
of  their  fellow-men;  such  confidence  presupposes  a 
very  sacredness  of  privacy.  That  this  paradox  is 
true  is  proven  by  the  nature  of  some  of  the  sins  thus 
entrusted  to  the  printed  page,  by  such  confessants  as 
Abelard66  and  Cardan,  such  self -students  as  Ben- 
venuto  Cellini  and  Rousseau.  The  feeling  which 
realizes  that  this  privacy  is  real  because  it  is  also 
publicity,  forms  a  part  of  the  autobiographical  inten- 
tion toward  sincerity,  which  is  one  of  the  basic  ideas 
of  self -study  in  autobiography.67 

The  origins  of  the  written  confession,  therefore,  are 
seen  to  be  social,  literary,  and  psychological ;  and  these 
must  receive  due  consideration,  since  the  religious  self- 
study  is  in  a  measure  evolved  from  all  of  them.  At 
the  moment,  our  purpose  is  but  to  establish  the  con- 
nection between  the  ritual  and  the  document,  with 
the  effect  on  both  of  the  work  of  Augustin.  When 
that  original,  human  impulse  to  * '  tell  all  about  it ' '  had 
familiarized  itself  with  a  form  of  expression  provided 
for  its  aid  by  the  builders  of  the  early  Church,  a 
fresh  impetus  was  given  to  all  similar  forms.  Hence 
Augustin 's  " Confessions"  introduced  to  the  confes- 
sion proper  the  autobiographical  intention  and  idea. 
It  was  plain  that  a  full  sincerity  involved  giving  the 
complete  history  of  the  subject,  the  sources  of  his  sin, 
the  progress  of  his  conversion-process.  A  definite 
plan  of  self -study  thus  came  to  be  formulated.  Au- 
gustin not  only  taught  this  self -study  to  be  full  and 
sincere,  but  furnished  an  imperishable  classic  by  the 
way  of  example,  and  one  which  was  to  be  followed  by 
the  most  enthusiastic  imitation.  Through  him,  the 


CONFESSION  AND  APOLOGIA  43 

religious  record  became  the  natural  means  of  expres- 
sion for  the  emotions  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

Since  the  day  of  the  Bishop  of  Hippo,  the  further 
evolution  of  this  type  has  been  comparatively  slow. 
Already  has  it  been  noted  that  the  derivation  of  the 
confession-idea  from  paganism  was  hardly  more  than 
formal;  and  that  in  the  more  ancient  religions  it 
lacked  both  in  vitality  and  personal  appeal.  Its 
vital  conception  is  purely  the  flower  of  Augustin's 
genius.  Modern  exponents  have  added  but  little: 
more  facts,  perhaps ;  a  clearer  understanding  of  what 
was  seen ;  better  comparison  in  the  matter  of  case  and 
case;  nothing  more.  There  are  more  minds  of  an 
introspective  cast  to-day,  owing  to  the  tendency  and 
development  of  modern  thought,  yet  their  records 
have  added  but  little  to  the  form  bequeathed  by 
Augustin.  His  fascination  over  their  imaginations 
has  endured  for  nearly  one  thousand  years,  while  his 
method  of  self-revelation  has  proved  more  satisfying 
than  that  of  the  confessional.  To  its  disciplinary 
effect,  since  it  requires  an  equally  stringent  self-ex- 
amination, there  are  many  to  testify;  while  the  ugli- 
ness of  the  written  sin  constitutes  no  light  penance  for 
the  sensitive  mind. 

Many  temperaments  are  aided  and  uplifted  by  this 
act  of  confession;  it  is  their  natural  need,  and  may 
be  the  only  hold  which  goodness  has  upon  them.  Lit- 
erature is  filled  with  examples  to  show  that  the  impulse 
may  become  overmastering, — such  as  the  cases  in  ' '  The 
Scarlet  Letter,"  or  in  Dostoievski's  " Crime  and  Pun- 
ishment. ' ' 68  But  it  does  not  need  examples  so  melo- 
dramatic to  bring  this  truth  home  to  us.  What 


44  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

mother  has  not  had  the  startling  yet  sacred  experience 
of  hearing  a  sensitive  child  make  sudden  and  volun- 
tary confession?  Some  evil  act — which  may  be 
wholly  unsuspected — or  some  evil  thought  which  has 
been  too  long  suppressed — serves  to  set  up  an  unbear- 
able tension  and  uneasiness.  Is  not  this  what  De 
Quincey  meant  when  he  wrote,  "If  in  this  world 
there  is  one  misery  having  no  relief,  it  is  the  pressure 
on  the  heart  from  the  Incommunicable.  And  .  .  . 
what  burden  is  that  which  only  is  insupportable  by 
human  fortitude  ?  I  should  answer  ...  it  is  the  bur- 
den of  the  Incommunicable. ' ' 69  True,  indeed,  it  is 
that  * '  For  him  who  confesses,  shams  are  over  and  reali- 
ties are  begun. "  70  The  soul's  endeavor  to  purge  itself 
is  an  impulse  so  definite  and  so  universal  at  certain 
stages  in  its  development,  that  to  determine  these 
stages  forms  a  valuable  point  of  departure  for  a 
psychological  analysis. 

The  question  asked  at  the  outset  of  this  chapter 
will  not  have  been  forgotten  by  the  reader.  When 
we  turn  to  science  and  enquire  why  the  act  of  confes- 
sion should  bring  a  relief  so  intense  to  the  mind  and 
spirit,  the  mental  physiologist  has  an  answer  ready. 
If  it  seem  an  answer  more  or  less  theoretical,  one 
must  not  forget  that  the  whole  subject,  after  all,  is 
still  in  the  realm  of  hypothesis  and  theory,  and  that 
a  categorical  reply  cannot  in  the  nature  of  things  be 
given  until  there  is  a  further  advance  in  the  study 
of  the  mental  phenomena.  Yet  much  has  been  de- 
termined. By  recent  experiment  it  has  been  shown 
that  the  connection  between  our  speech  and  our  ideas 
is  closer  than  we  used  to  think;  that  the  latter,  indeed, 


CONFESSION  AND  APOLOGIA  45 

is  practically  dependent  upon  the  former;  and  that 
upon  the  faculty  of  language  our  whole  intellectual 
fabric  really  rests.71 

Many  philosophers  have  suggested  this  dependence 
in  the  past.  From  Abelard  to  Humboldt,  it  has  been 
the  favorite  paradox  of  the  bolder  mind.  But  it 
can  never  have  been  more  than  a  paradox,  a  sug- 
gestion, until  the  modern  experiments  in  the  study 
of  the  deaf-mute  revealed  its  possibilities  as  a  truth. 
These  studies  have  demonstrated  at  least  one  fact; 
i.e.,  that  the  person  deprived  of  the  faculty  of  speech 
(and  this  includes,  of  course,  any  possibility  of  hear- 
ing and  understanding  speech)  is  deprived  as  well  of 
those  mental  images  which  are  associated  with  lan- 
guage. Lacking  the  means  of  expression,  the  subject 
will  be  found  also  lacking  in  the  ideas  to  express. 
The  teachers  of  Helen  Keller72  describe  her  original 
condition  as  one  almost  of  idiocy.  This  woman,  who 
now  wields  a  prose  of  extraordinary  clarity  and  beauty 
in  the  service  of  the  most  poetic  and  complex  ideas, 
as  a  young  child  felt  none  but  brute  emotions,  such 
as  hunger  or  anger;  and  was  incapable  of  anything 
even  approaching  an  abstract  conception.  By  the 
restoration  of  the  normal  channels  to  thought,  very 
gradually,  but  very  surely,  the  ideas  themselves,  first 
simple,  then  more  elaborate,  were  evolved  and  re- 
stored to  their  domination  in  the  human  scheme.  The 
power  of  forming  a  conception  is  by  this  example 
seen  to  be  dependent  on  the  means  of  expressing  it; 
while  language  takes  its  place  as  the  normal  and  indis- 
pensable prerequisite  to  thought.73 

Once  possessed  of  language,  man  raised  himself  very 


46  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

rapidly  above  the  brute-level,  for  his  every  new  word 
became  the  nucleus  for  a  group  of  new  concepts.  Com- 
municativeness, as  such,  is  therefore  his  natural  tend- 
ency; his  mental  capital  must  be  kept  constantly  in 
circulation  if  it  is  to  increase ;  and  the  busy  garrulity 
of  the  world  is  a  guaranty  of  its  vitality.  Further, 
it  is  normal,  if  not  inevitable,  for  speech  to  utter 
whatever  thought  the  mind  conceives.  That  restless 
spirit  which  we  call  human  cannot  lie  hid;  it  must 
forth  or  die.  After  having  once  attained  to  a  certain 
degree  of  vitality,  no  concept  can  be  suppressed  with- 
out strain.  An  idea,  once  formulated  in  your  mind, 
is  a  power  which  must  act,  and  if  you  fail  to  give  it 
an  outlet  by  your  utterance,  it  is  apt  to  create  a  dis- 
agreeable tension.  That  these  suppressions  are  ab- 
normal, that  if  persisted  in  they  cause  a  marked  un- 
easiness, that  one's  natural  impulse  is  to  share  one's 
thought  or  idea  with  another,  we  do  not  need  to  read 
in  books ;  they  are  matter  of  daily  experience. 

Such  popular  phrases  as  "having  something  on 
one's  mind,"  express  clearly  our  perception  of  this 
condition.  In  children,  to  whom  fresh  ideas  are  a 
continual  source  of  excitement,  the  strain  may  become 
exaggerated.  Wholly  apart  from  conduct,  many  a 
child  cannot  eat  or  sleep  normally  if  it  be  prevented 
from  "telling  mother"  of  some  new  idea  which  has 
taken  a  hold  upon  its  mind.  A  child  known  to  the 
writer  will  lie  awake  for  hours  under  the  tension  of 
such  a  suppression,  and  be  asleep  in  five  minutes  after 
the  perplexity  has  been  communicated,  even  when  all 
explanation  has  been  postponed  till  morning.  Adults 
have  naturally  more  self-control ;  yet  literature  is  filled 


CONFESSION  AND  APOLOGIA  47 

with  the  struggles  involved  by  such  suppression,  when 
the  suppressed  idea  is  one  of  importance.  Bizarre 
avowals,  confessions,  and  explanations  crowd  the  pages 
of  history;  yet  we  continue  to  wonder  at  the  candid 
revelations  of  Pepys,  or  Cellini,  Ivan  the  Terrible,  or 
Catherine  of  Russia,  without  realizing  the  power  of 
the  law  by  which  they  are  driven  to  make  them.74 

It  has  been  assumed  that  the  idea  must  attain  to  a 
certain  degree  of  importance  in  the  mind  conceiving  it. 
No  ideas  are  more  important  to  most  of  us  than 
those  affecting  our  own  conduct  or  opinions.  A  per- 
son having  these  under  consideration  has  created  a 
group  of  ideas  concerning  self.  If  he  adds  thereto  dis- 
satisfaction with  himself  due  to  newly  aroused  reli- 
gious feeling,  immediately  this  nucleus  is  charged  with 
emotion,  penitence,  grief,  and  humility.  Thus  height- 
ened, it  becomes  an  unbearable  centre  of  mental  ac- 
tivity, possessing  temporarily  all  his  energies,  and  in 
its  struggle  for  expression,  distracting  the  whole  poor 
creature.  Hawthorne  vividly  describes  this  condition 
in  "The  Marble  Faun."75  "I  could  not  bear  it," 
Hilda  cries.  ' '  It  seemed  as  if  I  made  the  awful  guilt 
my  own  by  keeping  it  hidden  in  my  heart.  I  grew 
a  fearful  thing  to  myself.  I  was  growing  mad ! ' '  The 
relief  when  she  makes  her  confession  is  described  as 
unspeakable, — the  satisfaction  of  a  great  need  of  the 
heart,  and  the  passing  away  of  a  torture.76 

For  a  longer  or  shorter  period  of  time,  according  to 
the  subject's  strength  of  character  and  the  various 
crises  through  which  he  may  pass,  this  suppression 
continues,  bringing  with  it  an  intense  misery.  The 
religious  crisis  forwards  the  moment  of  confession  by 


4,8  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

softening  the  man's  heart  and  loosening  his  will. 
And  when,  by  his  first  words  of  avowal,  this  tension 
is  relaxed,  the  relief  has  been  compared  to  the  drain- 
ing of  an  abscess.  Physicians  understand  this  fact 
so  well,  in  their  treatment  of  many  nervous  cases,  that 
confessions  are  not  discouraged,  and  are  treated  as 
under  the  seal.  The  writer  heard  not  long  since  how  a 
famous  neurologist  had  treated  a  woman  patient  un- 
successfully for  many  months ;  but  after  she  had  con- 
fessed to  a  hidden  sin,  she  recovered  rapidly. 

In  examples  where  this  impulse  is  heightened  by 
literary  gifts  and  natural  expansiveness,  the  relief 
is  touched  with  joy.  Not  only  has  a  channel  been 
provided  through  which  the  pent-up  feelings  may 
readily  flow,  but  it  is  a  channel  also  open  to  the  crea- 
tive faculties — a  new  outlet  for  newly  acquired  powers. 
Thus  Augustin  is  filled  with  exultant  delight,  prais- 
ing God;  thus,  too,  is  Teresa,  casting  aside  her  diffi- 
dence. The  sense  of  serene  power,  so  strong  in 
Cardan's  "Life,"  and  in  the  opening  books  of  Rous- 
seau's "Confessions,"  is  due  to  such  a  combination. 
Many  critics  have  set  this  emotion  down  to  piety 
only,  but  if  we  regard  it  nearly,  we  will  see  that  it 
partakes  the  characteristics  of  a  joy  more  constant  and 
less  subject  to  fluctuation  than  the  pious  joy — no  less 
than  the  happiness  of  intellectual  creation. 

Were  it  possible  to  obtain  the  data,  it  would  be 
interesting  to  determine  the  usual  length  of  the  period 
of  suppression  and  its  cause.  These  must  vary 
widely.  Criminal  annals  have  shown  us  cases  where 
such  a  suppression  has  lasted  for  many  years;  and 
there  may,  of  course,  be  natures  who  die  unconf  essed. 


CONFESSION  AND  APOLOGIA  49 

But  when  we  realize  that  the  recipient  of  the  confession 
need  only  be  one  other,  and  that  the  relief  of  such 
confession  may  be  just  as  great  if  no  action  of  any 
kind  follow  it,  we  see  that  it  is  very  doubtful  if  many 
men  go  to  their  graves  carrying  with  them  secrets 
which  no  other  human  being  has  shared.  And  if 
any  religious  emotion  or  disturbance  enter  into  one's 
life  at  all,  its  first  effect  would  be  unquestionably  to 
rouse  and  to  excite  this  impulse  to  confess. 

The  characteristics  of  the  earlier  confessions  are 
readily  comprehended.  Their  motive-forces  have  not 
changed  to-day,  although  familiarity  with  the  literary 
form  has  brought  into  play  the  confusing  elements 
of  imitation,  and  the  ages  have  weakened  the  primal 
emotions.  Still  are  they  being  written  under  the 
influence  of  that  autobiographical  intention,  which 
has  been  discussed  elsewhere,77  and  which  has  been 
denned  "as  writing  as  though  no  one  in  the  world 
were  to  read  it,  yet  with  the  purpose  of  being  read/' 78 
In  the  privacy  of  unveiling  the  soul  to  God  and  so 
making  a  fuller  revelation  to  man,  the  first  religious 
confession  was  written,  and  the  last  will  be  writ- 
ten. '  *  Columbus, ' '  says  Emerson,  * '  discovered  no  isle 
or  key  so  lonely  as  himself/'79  and  this  is  the  first 
discovery  of  all  serious  self -study.  Charged  with  a 
feeling  the  more  intense  because  of  its  previous  sup- 
pression, a  confessant  sits  down  to  "tell  all  about  it" 
as  far  as  his  gifts  and  powers  of  expression  will  permit. 
We  have  seen  how  these  differ,  and  we  shall  return 
to  this  difference,  which  is  important.  All  confess- 
ants  are  not  Augustin,  nor  yet  Bunyan,  nor  yet  James 
Linsley,  nor  yet  John  Gratton.  But  they  must  and  do 


50  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

share  certain  characteristics  and  tendencies,  however 
wide  the  variations  in  individual  force. 

Surely  the  very  act  of  writing  a  confession  presup- 
poses that  the  emotions  confessed  have  dropped  from 
their  first  height,  and  reached  a  secondary  stage. 
This  subsidence  must  not  be  forgotten,  though  it  gen- 
erally is ;  it  is  equally  true  of  every  feeling  described, 
of  love  or  hate,  of  pious  or  criminal  passion.  The 
mere  fact  of  writing  about  it  shows  that  the  high- water 
mark  of  the  emotion  itself  has  been  passed.  Failure 
to  comprehend  this  is  one  of  the  most  potent  sources 
of  prevalent  misinterpretation  of  the  document. 
When  the  confessant  writes,  "I  feel  thus  and  so,"  a 
distrust  is  immediately  bred  in  the  mind  of  the  reader, 
who,  finding  it  impossible  to  believe  that  a  fellow- 
creature  can  so  catch  his  own  moods  and  feelings  "on 
the  wing,"  as  it  were,  communicates  this  distrust  to 
the  matter  of  the  record.  Less  difficulty  is  experienced 
where  the  writer  substitutes  the  past  tense ;  remember- 
ing that  all  confessions  must  needs  be  confessions  of 
something  which  the  mind  is  able  to  analyze  and  sur- 
vey, i.e.,  of  something  past.  That  in  a  sensitive  nature 
the  mental  eye  may  exaggerate  the  past  experience, 
is  of  course  true;  but  it  is  less  common  than  many 
have  imagined.  The  reasons  why  Augustin  is  accused 
of  it  have  already  been  mentioned.  Many  of  us,  how- 
ever, share  Macaulay's  feeling,  that  the  religious  man 
over-accents  his  wickedness.  "  There  cannot  be  a 
greater  mistake,"  declares  Macaulay  with  his  usual 
emphasis,  "than  to  infer  from  the  strong  expressions 
in  which  a  devout  man  bemoans  his  exceeding  sinful- 
ness,  that  he  has  led  a  worse  life  than  his  neighbors. 


CONFESSION  AND  APOLOGIA  51 

Many  excellent  persons  .  .  .  have  in  their  autobiogra- 
phies and  diaries  applied  to  themselves,  and  doubtless 
with  sincerity,  epithets  as  severe  as  could  be  applied 
to  Titus  Oates  or  Mrs.  Brownrigg. " 80 

Macaulay,  with  many  others,  fails  to  observe  that 
the  difference  here  is  not  that  the  converted  man  has 
led  a  worse  life  than  his  neighbors,  but  only  that  he 
is  now  able  to  recognize  it  as  evil.  Bunyan's  youth 
resembles  that  of  many  men,  yet  the  moralist  does  not 
find  it  admirable  any  more  than  Bunyan  did.81  The 
early  years  of  Tolstoi  differ  very  little  from  those 
spent  by  other  young  Russians  of  his  day  and  so- 
ciety; but  are  we  required  to  think,  for  that  reason, 
that  they  were  well  spent?  Do  we  really  feel  as  we 
read  his  avowals,  or  those  of  Alfieri,  for  instance,  that 
he  exaggerates  when  he  calls  that  preconverted  time 
immoral  ? 82  When  John  B.  Gough  describes  his 
drunkard  degradation,  and  George  Miiller  the  vices 
for  which  he  was  arrested,83  are  they  exaggerating  be- 
cause they  have  come  to  see  themselves  as  others  see 
them?  The  facts  of  the  case  are  against  Macaulay. 
And  if  we  shift  our  standards  a  little,  believing  that 
the  eyes  which  see  the  hideousness  of  sin  are  now  open, 
when  before  they  were  closed,  then  we  feel  no  distrust 
of  the  self-depreciation  of  our  great  confessants. 

In  one  of  Shelley's  letters,  he  remarks  that  "Rous- 
seau's 'Confessions'  are  either  a  disgrace  to  the  con- 
fessor or  a  string  of  falsehoods,  and  probably  the  lat- 
ter. ' ' 84  The  ' '  either-or, ' '  in  this  sentence  is  very 
characteristic  of  Shelley 's  hasty  and  tumultuous  mind ; 
and  his  criticism  well  exhibits  his  inability  to  see 
things  as  they  really  were.  With  all  his  high  ideals 


52  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

of  virtue,  his  acts  yet  produced  the  miserable  re- 
sults of  vice;  with  all  his  delicate  sensitiveness  to 
beauty,  his  private  relations  yet  show  an  ugly  as- 
pect ;  while  the  lack  of  courageous  self-knowledge  ham- 
pered him  throughout  his  life.  A  man  like  this  finds 
an  indelicacy  in  all  real  candour,  and  by  temperament 
would  rather  never  look  facts  about  himself  in  the 
face.  His  attitude  toward  Rousseau  is  shared  by 
many, — even  Lord  Morley  thinks  that  the  opening 
sentences  of  the  "Confessions"  are  blasphemous.85 
Yet  it  is  to  such  an  one,  if  he  be  at  all  open-minded, 
that  the  sincere  confession  is  especially  addressed, 
and  for  whom  it  has  a  particular  value.  It  may  form, 
perhaps,  his  only  influence  on  the  subjective  side,  caus- 
ing him  for  once  to  examine  his  real  state ;  "to  strip 
himself  bare  as  Christ  stripped  himself  before  cruci- 
fixion ...  to  look  at  the  face  of  his  soul  in  the  mir- 
ror of  the  virtues  of  Christ. ' ' 86  Such  examination 
is  in  itself  a  religious  act,  and  shows  its  effect  by  the 
impression  which  these  records  have  produced  in 
times  past  over  minds  by  no  means  naturally  intro- 
spective. 

For  the  introspective  person  has  his  uses,  though  he 
will  never  form  one  of  the  majority.  He  is  a  develop- 
ment of  the  Christian  influence,  which  has  for  cen- 
turies worked  to  produce  this  special  and  highly  evo- 
lutionized  type  of  the  inward-looking  mind.  What 
religion  encouraged,  on  the  one  hand,  science  also,  with 
her  perpetual  questioning  and  analyzing,  encouraged 
on  the  other,  so  that  the  very  word  philosophy  has  to- 
day become  almost  a  synonym  for  subjective  discus- 
sion. What  result  these  influences  have  had  upon  the 


CONFESSION  AND  APOLOGIA  53 

evolution  of  modern  man,  and  modern  thought ;  upon 
the  recorded  inner  life  of  the  first,  and  the  special 
trend  of  the  second,  must  needs  form  the  subject  of  a 
separate  chapter. 

It  has  been  noted  that  there  are  other  sources  for 
the  early  religious  self -study,  and  other  influences  af- 
fecting its  character,  upon  which  we  have  not  yet 
touched.  Before  entering  on  the  study  of  the  basic 
underlying  problems  of  subjectivity  and  introspection, 
it  were  well  to  consider  such  of  these  sources  as  may 
be  revealed  by  history.  The  connotation  in  our  minds 
of  the  words  " apologia "  and  " confession"  is  founded 
on  a  very  modern  rapprochement  of  the  two  ideas. 
When  Newman  wrote  an  "  Apologia  pro  Vita  sua,"  he 
used  a  title  which  already  carried  for  his  reader  an 
idea  beyond  mere  exposition,  and  involving  excuse. 
Now,  this  meaning  of  excuse  is  modern  and  secon- 
dary, although  in  a  sense  it  usurps  the  functions  of  the 
primary  meaning  of  exposition.  When  one  examines 
that  group  of  writings  technically  known  as  the  ' '  Cor- 
pus Apologetarum  Christianorum, "  or  the  "Body  of 
Christian  Apologetics, "  he  is  struck  with  their  im- 
personal character.  A  defence  of  the  faith  by  means 
of  an  adequate  exposition  of  its  doctrines, — this  was 
the  original  aim  of  the  apologist.  To  him,  there  would 
have  been  dishonor  in  the  faintest  suggestion  of  ex- 
cuse. 

This  same  intention  is  maintained  here  and  there 
in  literature,  during  the  Middle  Ages,  and  there  are 
returns  to  it,  occasionally,  even  to-day.  But  these 
returns  only  serve  to  mark  more  strikingly  that  a 
new,  personal  meaning  is  now  attached  to  the  word 


54  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

"apology."  When  Pietro  Pomponazzi 87  wrote  an 
"Apologia"  for  his  materialistic  tract  whose  doctrine 
disagreed  with  the  doctrine  of  the  soul's  immortality, 
one  somehow  expects  to  find  it  contain  his  personal 
excuses  for  his  lack  of  faith.  When  Sir  Leslie  Ste- 
phen 88  calls  his  volume  of  essays  "An  Agnostic's  Apol- 
ogy, ' '  one  is  somehow  surprised  to  find  the  term  used 
in  its  elder  sense  of  doctrinal  defence  and  exposition. 

How,  then,  did  this  idea  of  defence  by  exposition 
come  to  include  that  of  personal  statement  and  per- 
sonal confession  ?  The  Greek  word  means  simply  the 
speech  of  a  defendant  in  reply  to  that  of  a  prose- 
cutor.89 Hence  the  "Apology"  of  Socrates,  whose  de- 
fiant attitude  seems  in  our  minds  a  very  contradic- 
tion of  his  titular  address.90  "I  am  conscious  of  no 
guilt, ' '  he  declared ;  and  then  entered  on  certain  argu- 
ments in  support  of  his  opinions  which  permitted  him 
to  display  his  powers  in  their  most  characteristic 
form.91  There  is  certainly  here  no  intention  of  ex- 
cuse. 

It  has  been  similarly  suggested  that  Christianity, 
being  a  prophetic  religion,  should  not  have  descended 
to  argument,  but  should  have  continued  merely  to  de- 
clare God's  will.  The  Fathers,  however,  did  not  find 
that  a  mere  declaration  sufficed  them.  During  that 
great  second  century,  when  apologetics 92  became  prac- 
tically a  science,  all  literature  of  this  kind  begins  to 
change  in  tone.  It  displays,  in  fact,  the  first  effects  of 
that  spontaneous  evolution  from  the  objective  to  the 
subjective  which  was  characteristic  of  other  lines  of 
thought  as  well.  The  Fathers  may  not  have  known, 
as  we  know,  that  every  creed  must  pass  through  its 


CONFESSION  AND  APOLOGIA  55 

apologetic  stage,  when  the  energy  of  its  adherents 
must  needs  be  devoted  to  doctrinal  exposition,  defini- 
tion, and  defence.  The  building  of  a  Church  from  a 
creed,  of  an  organization  from  a  set  of  opinions,  is 
largely  dependent  upon  the  manner  in  which  this 
primary  exposition  is  accomplished.  The  definition 
and  development  of  men 's  ideas  as  to  the  value  of  such 
and  such  a  belief,  is  naturally  of  the  greatest  impor- 
tance in  causing  that  belief  to  prevail. 

Christianity  possessed  an  immense  advantage  in  the 
vitality,  the  acumen,  and  the  energy  of  its  primary 
apologists  and  expositors.  It  is  true  that  the  modern 
reader  will  have  difficulty  in  finding  a  single  docu- 
ment of  this  large  group  93  which  bears  what  he  to-day 
would  term  an  apologetic  significance.  Their  attitude 
is  as  sure  and  unswerving  as  that  of  Socrates  him- 
self ;  nor  must  it  be  forgotten  that  the  whole  world 
stood,  at  this  time,  for  the  prosecutor  of  Christianity, 
whose  place  at  the  bar  was  not  unlike  that  of  the 
Greek  philosopher,  while  facing  some  of  the  same 
charges. 

These  disquisitions  are  almost  wholly  doctrinal  in 
character,  many  of  them  occupied  only  in  the  analy- 
sis of  certain  moot-points  of  dogma.  The  only  sugges- 
tion of  personality  about  them  lies  in  their  acrimony.; 
for  the  vexation  of  the  writer  is  an  indication  that 
his  feelings  and  his  temperament  in  general  are  in- 
volved in  the  discussion. 

By  the  time  of  the  Eenaissance,  the  classic,  i.e.,  the 
impersonal,  intellectual  apology,  had  grown  to  be  dif- 
ferentiated from  the  personal  apology.  This  last  was 
the  child  of  Christian  controversy,  born  of  the  furious 


56  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

zeal  of  the  saints,  to  whom  a  difference  of  opinion  on 
doctrinal  points  meant  life  or  death.  To  our  greater 
tolerance  there  is  something  strange  and  unnecessary 
in  this  ready  anger  of  the  Fathers,  which  charged  their 
writings  with  animus,  while  at  the  same  time  it  re- 
moved them  even  further,  if  possible,  from  our  pres- 
ent conception  of  the  sphere  of  apology.  Let  us  take 
the  famous  controversy  between  Rufinus  and  Jerome.04 
The  former  states  his  attitude  toward  Manichseanism, 
with  his  reasons  for  making  certain  interpretations 
from  the  works  of  Origen;  the  latter  directly  attacks 
these  views,  and  gives  his  reasons  therefor.  Both 
adopt  an  assertive  manner  quite  contrary  to  what  we 
should  now  term  "apologetic"  in  any  current  sense 
of  that  word.  Rufinus  talks  of  Jerome 's  ' '  invectives ' ' 
and  of  his  "subterfuges  of  hypocrisy."  Jerome  re- 
torts upon  "the  unprecedented  shamelessness"  of 
Rufinus,  whom  he  scruples  not  to  call  "a  scorpion." 
Each  accuses  the  other  of  heresy  and  of  double-deal- 
ing; each  defends  himself  by  accusing  the  other.95 
When  Rufinus  asserts  that  Jerome  is  still  a  Cicero- 
nian, notwithstanding  his  dream  that  God  accused 
him  of  following  Cicero  more  ardently  than  Christ, 
Jerome  opens  the  full  vials  of  his  irony  upon  his  less 
cultured  opponent.  He  congratulates  Rufinus  upon  a 
literary  style,  so  unclassical,  so  rough  and  thorny, 
which  shows  that  he  has  not  been  hampered  by  any  love 
of  the  classics !  Although  Jerome  himself  has  written 
of  his  famous  dream  as  a  complete  conversion  to 
things  heavenly;  yet  he  cannot  bear  that  Rufinus 
should  say  a  word  against  * '  My  Tully '  * ;  and  immedi- 
ately rushes  to  declare,  with  all  heat  and  defiance,  that 


CONFESSION  AND  APOLOGIA  57 

no  sensible  person  would  hold  himself  to  be  bound  by  a 
promise  given  in  a  dream ! 

Neither  of  these  two  men  offers  any  explana- 
tion of  his  own  views  which  would  convince  a  modern, 
unpartisan  outsider  that  he  had  the  right  to  such  a 
hostile  attitude  toward  the  views  of  the  other.  Apolo- 
getic is  the  least  accurate  possible  word  to  describe 
the  assaults  of  Jerome's  wit,  his  irony,  vituperation, 
and  impatient  energy  of  refutation.  Yet  both  in  his 
matter  and  manner,  in  his  imagery  and  his  attack, 
there  is  seen  the  development  of  a  personal  note ;  and 
this  personal  tone  is  augmented  by  the  introduction  of 
autobiographical  details,  though  these  are  scattered 
and  slight.96 

Here,  then,  is  the  beginning  of  the  personal  note  in 
apology ;  and  of  course  it  is  more  marked  in  a  nature 
like  that  of  Jerome  than  it  would  be  in  a  cooler  head 
and  heart.  John  Chrysostom  97  makes  use  of  the  per- 
sonal manner,  but  he  is  not,  like  Jerome,  introspec- 
tive. In  Justin  Martyr,  the  personal  tone  has  grown 
into  a  full  personal  explanation. 

The  study  of  early  Christian  apologetics  will  not 
further  our  purpose  in  these  pages  beyond  this  point. 
It  will  be  understood  that  the  drill  in  exegesis  which 
work  of  this  type  lent  to  the  powerful  intelli- 
gences of  the  Fathers  tended  to  expand  and  heighten 
the  qualities  which  make  for  self -study  and  self -un- 
derstanding. Jerome  and  Eufinus  may  confine  their 
personal  exposition  to  an  interchange  of  vituperation ; 
Tertullian's  voice  may  thunder  down  the  ages  bear- 
ing his  expression  of  opinion;  but  the  tendency  to 
make  personal  all  religious  appeal  becomes  more 


58  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

marked.  No  man  can  explain  to  another  a  truth  very 
near  his  own  heart  without  studying  his  own  nature; 
nor  can  any  one  vividly  expound  his  religious  views 
without  drawing  some  picture  of  their  effect  upon  him- 
self. An  appreciation  of  this  verity  is  borne  in  upon 
us  on  reading  such  documents  as  Justin  Martyr's 
"Dialogue  with  Trypho,"  and  the  apocalyptic  "Shep- 
herd of  Hernias."  In  the  former,  several  paragraphs, 
dealing  with  Justin's  education  and  religious  develop- 
ment, show  how  keenly  he  felt  the  need  of  a  personal 
exposition  of  these  matters.  The  unknown  Hermas, 
author  of  the  "Shepherd,"  makes  one  of  the  earliest 
attempts  in  literature  to  give  a  systematic  account  of 
a  personal  revelation  through  divine  visions.98  Thus, 
the  appeal  of  a  man's  belief  to  himself,  its  influence  on 
himself,  are,  after  all,  his  chief  reasons  for  trying  to 
impose  it  upon  another,  as  well  as  his  best  guides  as 
to  the  manner  of  so  doing.  Faith  is  an  emotional 
factor;  and  no  one  can  hope  to  make  converts  by  a 
mere  abstract  discussion  of  its  validity  or  its  reason- 
ableness. "La  raison,"  observes  Renan,  "aura  tou- 
jours  peu  de  martyrs."  The  doctrines  of  Manichasus 
seemed  to  Augustin  to  have  been  based  on  a  truly 
scientific  method,"  but  that  fact  could  not  hold  him, 
once  their  personal  appeal  had  waned.  The  instant 
they  ceased  to  affect  him  for  good,  to  aid  his  steps, 
that  instant  they  appeared  to  his  mind  to  be  pernicious 
and  heretical.  The  influence  which  sways  another  to 
our  view  is,  first  of  all,  the  effect  our  opinion  has  had 
upon  ourselves.  The  vitality  in  all  defence,  in  all 
apology,  lies  here. 
Once  introduced  into  the  religious  literature  of  the 


CONFESSION  AND  APOLOGIA  59 

early  Middle  Ages,  this  personal  note  becomes  clearly 
traceable  through  the  scattered  monkish  and  ecclesias- 
tical and  even  the  secular  confessiones,  testamenta, 
and  apologiae  of  the  first  twelve  centuries.  In  many 
cases,  such  as  that  of  the  anti-Christian  Epistle  of  the 
Neo-Platonist  Porphyry  to  the  prophet  Anebo,100  the 
personal  manner  is  merely  rhetorical,  and  is  not  in- 
tended to  be  taken  literally.  In  this  Epistle,  the 
author  states  his  religious  doubts  and  asks  for  their 
elucidation,  with  an  assumption  of  ignorance  which  we 
know  cannot  have  been  real;  though  it  is  interesting 
to  find  him  using  a  personal  method.  The  oft-cited 
passages  in  the  work  of  Philo-Judasus 101  contain  not 
only  real  and  important  self -study,  but  also  some  of 
the  earliest  data  obtainable  102  on  the  influence  of  that 
Daemon,  "who  is  accustomed, ' '  writes  Philo,  "to  con- 
verse with  me  in  an  unseen  manner,  prompting  me 
with  suggestions. "  The  material,  however,  is  em- 
bodied in  this  paragraph  without  further  evolution; 
it  has  evidently  little  self-consciousness  in  its  testi- 
mony. 

A  number  of  autobiographical,  apologetic  confes- 
sions are  to  be  found  during  the  centuries  before  these 
documents  took  the  conventional  shape  to  which  we 
are  now  accustomed.  Some  among  them  suggest  the 
religious  confession  of  the  future;  although  it  must 
be  remembered  that,  before  the  unrest  preceding  the 
Reformation,  they  lacked  the  powerful  motive  for 
completeness  which  is  furnished  by  change  of  sect. 
Among  the  more  noteworthy  should  be  mentioned  the 
testament  and  confession  in  Syriac,  of  Ephraim  of 
Edessa,103  who,  in  the  fourth  century,  accuses  himself 


60  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

of  being  envious,  quarrelsome  and  cruel,  until  his  heart 
was  touched  by  a  spirit.  Some  doubt  attaches  to  the 
authenticity  of  this  document  in  its  present  form,  but 
it  holds  a  curious  interest  for  us.  The  better-known 
"Confessio  Patricii"  104  is  entirely  personal,  touching, 
and  complete.  There  will  be  occasion  later  in  these 
pages  to  refer  to  the  narrative  of  Patrick 's  conversion 
and  following  career  which  it  contains ;  at  the  moment, 
attention  should  be  called  only  to  the  accent  of  humil- 
ity in  which  the  writer  describes  himself:  ".  .  .  I,  a 
rustic,  a  fugitive,  unlearned,  indeed  .  .  ."  or  again: 
"I,  Patrick,  a  sinner,  the  rudest  and  least  of  all  the 
faithful,  and  most  contemptible  to  very  many. ' ' 

Similar  records,  if  of  less  value,  are  enshrined  in 
Latin  collections.  Prosper  of  Aquitaine105  is  said  to 
have  left  a  confession  markedly  personal  in  tone. 
Perpetuus,106  Bishop  of  Tours,  confided  the  statement 
of  his  beliefs  to  a  "  Testamentum, "  about  the  same 
date.  Alcuin's lor  "Confessio  Fidei"  is  said  to  be  the 
work  of  his  disciples,  although  it  makes  use  of  the  first 
person.  A  confession  in  metrical  Latin  prose,  by  Paul 
of  Cordova,108  is  filled  with  prayer  and  invocation.  A 
monk,  Gotteschalchus,109  who  was  tried  for  heresy  in 
the  same  century,  expresses  himself  both  in  a  "Con- 
fessio,"  and  a  "Confessio  prolixior"  (post  hceresim 
damnatam),  supporting  his  apology  with  texts  from 
Scripture. 

By  the  eleventh  century,  one  may  easily  find  full- 
formed  and  highly  developed  confessions,  whose  origi- 
nal religious  purpose  has  already  begun  to  be  modified 
from  other  causes.  The  famous  letter  of  Peter  Dam- 
iani110  in  which  he  terms  himself  "Petrus  peccator," 


CONFESSION  AND  APOLOGIA  61 

shows  self-study  as  well  as  self-accusation.  The  tone 
of  this  letter  is  deeply  penitent,  and  the  writer  charges 
himself  with  many  sins,  especially  those  of  scurrility 
and  laughter.  Anselm  of  Canterbury,111  according 
to  his  friend  and  biographer,  Eadmer,  portrays  his 
own  remorse  in  his  "Oratio  meditative,"  whose  out- 
burst of  anguish  is,  indeed,  piercing.  Wholly  differ- 
ent is  its  accent  from  that  of  a  naif  chronicler  like  the 
monk  Kaoul  Glaber,112  whose  narrative  contains  his 
own  reformation  through  the  visit  of  a  hideous  fiend. 
When  this  visitant  perched,  with  mops  and  mows, 
upon  the  foot  of  Glaber 's  bed,  terror  drove  him  to  pray 
in  the  chapel  for  the  rest  of  the  night. 

Such  examples  serve,  at  least,  to  show  the  trend  of 
the  document,  its  descriptive  idea,  its  personal  note, 
its  apologetic  tendency.  Heterogeneous  forms  begin 
already  to  appear;  and  the  twelfth  century  gives  us, 
beside  the  Augustinian  confession,  the  personal 
apology,  the  confession  of  revelation,  the  narrative  of 
visions,  or  of  travels  to  the  unseen  world,  whether  of 
heaven  or  hell.113  Monkish  historical  chronicles  there 
are,  not  at  all  religious  and  but  indirectly  autobio- 
graphical, while  the  germ  of  the  scientific  self -study  be- 
gins to  show  itself  in  descriptions  of  one's  own 
education,  records  of  mental  development,  and  the 
like. 

Abelard's  "  Letter  II,"11*  Guibert  de  Nogent's 
"Life,"  prefixed  to  his  "History  of  the  Crusades,"  115 
are  documents  beginning  to  mark  this  differentiation 
in  tone.  The  "  Metalogicus "  of  John  of  Salis- 
bury 116  gives  a  plain  account  of  the  course  of  studies 
pursued  by  that  famous  scholar.  Full  of  greater  de- 


62  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

tail  is  a  similar  record,  the  ' '  Euriditionis  Didasca- 
licae"  117  of  the  mystic,  Hugo  of  St.  Victor,  who  is  also 
reported  to  have  left  a  "Confessio  Fidei."  Roger 
Bacon  makes  his  apology  to  the  Pope,  in  a  letter  de- 
scribing his  labors  and  struggles.118  Often  religion 
enters  into  such  documents  as  these  only  when  they 
come  under  the  fear  of  the  Inquisition ;  their  nature  is, 
of  course,  affected  by  such  fear,  and  their  appeal  is 
made  directly  to  the  authorities  of  the  Holy  Office. 

The  entrance  into  this  field  of  the  mystics  and  their 
records,  or  revelations,  brings  us  to  a  final  division  of 
the  subject.  It  was  in  these  centuries  that  the  Via 
Mystica  opened  to  the  imagination  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
Along  that  Way  are  to  pass  a  great  company — "Itin- 
erarium  mentis  in  Deum,"  as  John  of  Fidanza 119 
named  his  own  progress  thereon.  The  gates  of  this 
Way  had  been  indicated  by  Augustin,  by  Plotinus,  as 
some  have  thought,  and  by  lamblichus,  since  undoubt- 
edly Neo-Platonism  is  the  source  of  all  later  mys- 
ticism.120 The  visions  and  revelations  to  saints  and 
contemplatives,  such  as  Hildegarde  of  Bingen,  Eliza- 
beth of  Schonau,  and  their  like,  threw  the  gates  wide. 
Some  of  the  more  important  of  these  pilgrims  will  be 
considered  later  in  this  book. 

With  the  introduction  into  the  apology,  of  personal 
confession,  the  use  of  this  form  as  a  plain  exposition  of 
doctrine  slowly  declined.  It  was  no  longer  needed 
in  the  same  way ;  the  Church  was  the  indisputed  mis- 
tress of  the  medieval  world.  Her  votaries  were  no 
longer  obliged  to  explain  their  views  to  the  crowd, 
since  the  crowd  believed  as  they  did.  It  was  no  longer 
necessary  to  convince  the  Stoic,  or  the  dilettante,  or 


CONFESSION  AND  APOLOGIA  63 

the  aristocratic  Epicurean  of  the  elder  Roman  order, 
that  he  must  believe  and  be  saved.  Much  of  the 
seriousness  of  self -study  had  been  born  of  this  earlier 
necessity,  when  a  man  was  forced  to  look  very  nearly 
to  his  own  mind  and  beliefs,  since  he  wished  his  family 
and  friends  to  share  them.  He  felt  he  must  show  how 
he  had  changed  for  the  better ;  he  must  describe  what 
he  was  before  his  conversion  as  well  as  what  he  be- 
came after  it.  Difference  of  opinion,  heresy,  in  a 
word,  was  always  wickedness,  and  the  man  who  felt 
his  conduct  or  his  opinions  to  stand  in  need  of  defence 
or  excuse,  kept  alive  the  apologetic  attitude,  as  we 
understand  it  to-day. 

Later  on,  it  seems  only  conduct  that  evokes  apology. 
Not  Bruno 's 121  heresy,  but  Lorenzino  de '  Medici 's 
crime 122  needs  an  apologia.  Still  later  the  tone 
lightens ;  in  the  hand  of  Colley  Gibber,123  for  instance, 
the  apology  becomes  almost  gay.  But  even  in  our  own 
day  the  examples  of  this  form  may  be  found  in  all 
their  original  seriousness  with  only  that  change  in  ac- 
centuating conduct  which  we  have  just  noticed.  New- 
man 124  felt  that  not  his  change  to  Catholicism  required 
an  apology ;  but  rather  the  charge  of  double-dealing  in 
connection  with  his  submission  to  the  Church.  This 
he  justifies,  he  excuses,  as  best  he  may ;  it  is  not  easily 
explained.  His  attitude  is  curiously  non-apologetic 
on  that  side  where  some  apology  would  seem  to  have 
been  demanded  by  the  nature  of  the  acts  confessed. 
But  then  the  apologetic  attitude  would  seem  to  be  al- 
most wholly  a  question  of  temperament,  not  that  of 
will.  Augustin,  Eousseau,  Oscar  Wilde,  possess  it; 
and  there  exist  candid  confessions  where  it  never 


64  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

seems  even  to  have  been  felt  by  the  conf essant  himself, 
and  where  he  merely  states  the  facts  without  comment. 
Cardan  is  an  example  of  this ;  so  is  his  contemporary, 
Cellini ; 125  De  Quincey  is  another  notable  instance ; 
and  there  is  a  curious  example  of  a  non-apologetic 
state  of  mind  contained  in  that  confession  by  Alex- 
ander Hamilton  which  was  known  as  "The  Keynolds 
Pamphlet."126  Hamilton  had  been  accused  of  spec- 
ulating with  the  public  funds,  such  being  the  general 
explanation  of  his  relations  with  Reynolds.  The  real 
explanation  was  an  intrigue  with  Mrs.  Reynolds,  util- 
ized by  the  husband  for  purposes  of  blackmail. 
Hamilton  is  forced  to  make  a  full  statement  of  the 
truth.  He  writes  in  this  tone:  "I  proceed  ...  to 
offer  a  frank  and  plain  solution  of  the  enigma,  by  giv- 
ing a  history  of  the  origin  and  progress  of  my  con- 
nection with  Mrs.  R  .  .  ."  And  later,  "I  had  noth- 
ing to  lose  as  to  my  reputation  for  chastity ;  concern- 
ing which  the  world  had  fixed  a  previous  opinion." 

After  remarking  that  this  opinion  was  the  correct 
one,  and  that  "I  dreaded  extremely  a  disclosure  and 
was  willing  to  make  large  sacrifices  to  avoid  one,"  he 
proceeds  energetically  to  refute  the  embezzlement 
charges,  pointing  to  the  truth  as  to  a  justification. 
The  relative  importance  in  his  mind  of  the  two  sins 
is  at  once  characteristic  and  suggestive.  What  would 
to  many  minds  have  appeared  to  require  a  sincere 
apology  (if  only  to  Mrs.  Hamilton),  is  treated  as  the 
insignificant  explanation  of  an  unjust  accusation. 

The  literary  influence  of  the  body  of  Christian 
apologetics  has  thus  been  exerted  in  unexpected  direc- 
tions; and  has,  partially  at  least,  endured  until  the 


CONFESSION  AND  APOLOGIA  65 

present  time.  From  Jerome  and  Pamphilus  to  New- 
ton and  Whiston  the  difference  in  their  theological 
manner  is  comparatively  slight.  It  is  true  that  one 
must  not  exaggerate  their  influence,  since  it  was  their 
ardent  faith  that  counted  rather  than  their  intellec- 
tual force.127  Until  the  nineteenth  century,  when- 
ever the  apologist  made  his  appearance,  it  was  to 
build  his  explanation  upon  the  old  foundations,  and 
to  raise  his  defence  upon  the  classic  plan.128  Still,  for 
him  did  theology,  philosophy,  and  metaphysics  form 
the  three  strands  of  one  cord.  But  with  the  latter-day 
growth  of  scientific  methods,  these  strands  have  been 
permanently  loosened.  The  new  psychology,  the  an- 
thropology of  Tylor,  Spencer,  and  Frazer,  the  evolu- 
tion theories  as  affecting  biology,  all  these  have  tended 
to  separate  and  divide  those  various  elements  which 
together  form  a  man's  philosophy  and  religion.  Thus 
the  self-student  can  no  longer  approach  his  apologia 
in  the  same  spirit.  His  candour  may  produce  similar 
results,  but  it  has  a  different  motive  power.  He  real- 
izes, as  Augustin,  by  reason  of  his  genius,  realized, 
that  the  accurate  effect  of  the  religious  experience 
upon  himself  is  better  worth  analyzing  than  all  the 
metaphysics  of  the  Schoolmen.  Augustin  felt  this 
when  he  devoted  ten  books  of  the  "Confessions"  to  the 
psychological  treatment  of  his  subject,  and  only  three 
to  the  theological.  Our  modern  confessant  has  done 
well  to  observe  the  same  general  proportion. 

The  "Corpus  Apologetarum  Christianorum"  has 
maintained  its  effective  position  in  religious  literature 
by  reason  of  the  vigorous  intellectual  force  originally 
responsible  for  all  exposition  and  defence  of  doctrine. 


66  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

The  personal  record  owes  it  much  beside  name  and 
flexibility  of  treatment.  In  modern  times,  its  classic 
animosity  of  tone  has  been  transferred  to  the  contro- 
versies of  science ;  while  the  milder  apology,  so-called, 
has  tended  to  become  the  property  of  that  mind  which 
is  anxious  to  convince  itself  of  its  own  strength  or 
weakness.  Hence  to-day  we  readily  connect  the  idea 
of  apology  with  that  of  excuse.129 

In  the  study  of  any  subject  by  a  valid  method,  classi- 
fication and  analysis  must  precede  induction.  If  these 
are  full  and  sufficient,  then  the  reader  is  often  able  to 
foresee  the  conclusions  of  his  author.  When  it  be  un- 
derstood how  the  written  confession  arose  at  the  in- 
spiration of  Augustin,  just  as  the  practice  of  public 
confession  was  tending  to  decline  (in  the  second  and 
third  centuries),  then  it  will  be  readily  comprehended 
that  its  literary  style  must  have  been  formed  by  the 
explanatory  drill  in  the  works  of  the  Christian  Apolo- 
gist. That  its  vitality  came  from  yet  another  source — 
that  subjective  trend  developing  in  the  world  of 
thought — must  not  be  forgotten,  although  the  discus- 
sion of  this  source  is  necessarily  postponed  until  the 
following  chapter.  But  even  without  any  tendency 
to  subjectivism  being  taken  into  account,  history 
makes  plain  certain  personal  attitudes,  which,  even 
in  the  time  of  Rousseau,  remained  obscure.  If  the 
forces  governing  thought  and  controlling  literary 
movements  are  noted  in  their  beginnings,  their  later 
progress  presents  few  difficulties  to  our  comprehen- 
sion. Science  to-day,  as  never  before,  aids  the  task. 
Psychology,  teaching  the  relation  between  idea  and 
language,  together  with  the  power  of  group- imitation; 


CONFESSION  AND  APOLOGIA  fc 

anthropology  and  sociology,  unfolding  the  growth 
of  peoples  and  of  societies,  now  throw  a  clearer  light 
upon  the  individual  records  with  which  we  are  about 
to  deal.  The  time  spent  in  analysis,  therefore,  has 
not  been  wasted,  since  it  permits  us  to  approach  the 
more  complex  parts  of  our  subject,  with  confidence 
that  its  historical  and  literary  elements  have  been  dis- 
entangled, and  are  understood. 


Ill 

INTROSPECTION:  THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE 


I.  1.  Definition,  and  attitudes  toward  introspection. 

2.  Plato,  Christianity,  the  Sophists,  Protagoras,  Dem- 

ocritus. 

3.  Animism,  metaphysics,  the  Church. 

4.  Tendency    toward    subjectivity;    Seneca,    Marcus 

Aurelius,  Epictetus. 

5.  Self -study  and  mysticism;  Neo-Platonists,  Plotinus, 

Augustin. 
II.  1.  Self-consciousness. 

2.  Mental  processes. 

3.  Psychology. 

4.  Value  of  introspection  in  the  past. 

5.  The  Ego. 

III.  1.  The  types  in  literature  and  philosophy;  Augustin. 

2.  England  and  Germany;  Al-Ghazzali  and  Descartes. 

3.  Kant,    Comte,    Fichte,    Schelling,    Schopenhauer, 

Nietzsche. 

4.  Dante,  Petrarch,  Eneas  Sylvius,  Montaigne. 

5.  B-Cowne,  Rousseau,  Cardan,  Byron,  and  Shelley. 

6.  Minor  examples. 

7.  Emerson,  Amiel,  the  Gurneys,  and  Oscar  Wilde. 


Ill 

INTROSPECTION :   THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE 

IT  is  now  determined  of  what  main  elements  the 
first  religious  confessions  were  composed,  how  partly 
the  general  drift  of  thought,  and  partly  the  direct  im- 
pulse given  by  individual  genius,  was  responsible  for 
their  form  and  for  their  content.  Nor  will  it  be 
found  difficult  to  believe  that  the  training  in  exegesis 
and  in  dialectic  of  those  earlier  apologists,  would  later, 
have  a  perceptible  influence.  Thus,  gradually,  the 
records  of  personal  religious  experience  came  to  have  a 
definite  character  of  their  own,  one,  moreover,  which 
tended  to  become  more  and  more  subjective.  But 
such  influences  in  themselves  do  not  wholly  account  for 
the  increasing  development  in  religion  of  the  mental 
habit  which  we  term  introspection;  they  might  give 
definiteness  and  direction  to  the  introspective  tend- 
ency, but  they  could  not  of  themselves  create  it.  A 
new  element  introduced  into  thought  will  of  neces- 
sity create  new  literary  forms  and  fresh  points  of 
view.  It  remains  for  us  to  ascertain  what  were  the  ele- 
ments introduced  by  introspection  into  the  religious 
life,  and  what  new  literary  forms  it  has  served  to  pro- 
duce. 

The  word  means  no  more,  of  course,  than  "looking 
within ";  although  it  is  used  to  describe  a  familiar 
mental  state,  and  one  which  we  are  apt  to  think  of 

71 


72  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

as  wholly  modern.  All  that  is  implied  in  this  moder- 
nity is  best  defined  in  the  words  of  Mill,  when  he  re- 
marked that  "the  feelings  of  the  modern  mind  are 
more  various,  more  complex  and  manifold  than  those 
of  the  ancients  ever  were.  The  modern  mind  is  what 
the  ancient  was  not,  brooding  and  self-conscious ;  and 
its  meditative  self -consciousness  has  discovered  depths 
in  the  human  soul  which  the  Greeks  and  Romans  did 
not  dream  of,  and  would  not  have  understood. ' ' l 

That  the  world  has  owed  much  to  this  power  of 
1  'meditative  self -consciousness/'  Mill  hardly  needs  to 
remind  us;  yet  no  one  will  deny  that  it  is  in  general 
regarded  with  distrust.  There  has  come  to  be  attached 
to  our  conception  of  the  introspective  state  of  mind 
the  idea  that  it  is  unwholesome  and  abnormal;  and 
this  connotation  suggests  that  the  world  clings  to  cer- 
tain standards  of  what  is  normal,  long  after  they  have 
ceased  to  be  in  any  sense  accurate.  The  introspec- 
tive type  of  mind  has  ceased  to  be  a  rarity;  and  one 
may  well  question  if  it  be  advisable  to  thrust  it  aside 
as  abnormal  without  a  more  valid  reason  than  is  fur- 
nished by  instincts  half-vestigiary.  No  doubt  the 
presence  of  a  self -analytical  tendency  in  some  neurotic 
conditions,  and  the  "culte  du  moi"  in  certain  so- 
called  decadent  literary  schools,  have  had  their  share 
in  maintaining  this  antagonism.  Yet  it  will  be 
noticed  that  even  when  there  is  no  neurosis  and  no 
decadence — when  the  introspective  tendency  is  coin- 
cident with  a  healthy  energy  and  a  robust  scientific 
habit — yet  the  world's  antagonism  is  never  lessened. 
In  fact,  it  is  a  sentiment  only  to  be  accurately  de- 
fined by  the  use  of  such  terms  as  "instinctive  uneasi- 


THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE  73 

ness,"  "instinctive  distrust,"  suggesting  that  it  is  in 
itself  a  part  of  our  inheritance  from  the  past.  Possi- 
bly it  is  to  this  same  instinctive  distrust  that  we  owe 
the  curious  silence  of  some  of  our  greatest  critics  on 
the  subject — a  silence  which  seems  at  times,  to  be 
almost  deliberate.  Arnold,  for  instance,  though  he 
loved  to  write  of  such  profoundly  introspective  na- 
tures as  Amiel,  or  the  de  Guerins,  and  of  such  topics 
as  "Pagan  and  Mediaeval  Religious  Sentiment" — yet 
somehow  contrives  to  avoid  any  discussion  of  the 
degree  and  the  value  of  a  "looking  within."  He  ac- 
cepts the  introspection  contained  in  these  thoughts 
and  journals,  but  it  does  not  appear  to  hold  any  sig- 
nificance for  him.  Nor  is  this  true  of  Arnold  only; 
it  is  true  of  other  critics,  both  English  and  foreign; 
it  makes  the  pathway  which  we  have  to  tread  singu- 
larly barren  of  comment.  No  authoritative  voice 
speaks  to  us  concerning  this  trend  of  the  human  mind. 
We  are  unguided  when,  in  our  endeavor  to  look  into 
the  past,  we  seek  for  the  earliest  indications  of  that 
tendency  which  was  to  mark  the  world's  maturity. 
For  to  the  Greek,  to  the  pagan  mind,  introspection  as 
we  know  it,  was  practically  non-existent;  and  there 
came  a  time  when  a  joyously  objective  world  beheld 
with  anxiety  the  clouding  of  its  sky  by  the  develop- 
ment of  self-consciousness.  It  is  true  that  the  con- 
templative religions  of  the  East  had  long  held  another 
ideal. 

When  Manu  describes  the  creation  of  the  universe, 
he  tells  that  "From  himself  [Buddha]  drew  forth  the 
mind,  which  is  both  real  and  unreal ;  likewise  from  the 
mind  egoism  which  possesses  the  function  of  self-con- 


74  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

sciousness,  and  is  lordly. " 2  This  sentence  has  a  mod- 
ern ring ;  it  bears,  indeed,  almost  a  Nietzschean  quality. 
It  would  seem  to  mark  the  contrast  between  Eastern 
and  Western  philosophy.  Yet  even  among  the  Greeks 
there  are  to  be  found,  if  one  searches,  the  germs  of  what 
appears  to  be  in  the  nature  of  a  curiosity  about  self, 
which,  later,  was  to  evolve  new  types  of  thinkers  and  of 
thoughts.  But  of  what  nature  is  this  curiosity  ?  Is  it 
properly  to  be  called  subjective  at  all?  It  is  true  that 
Socrates  quoted  that  ancient  Delphian  inscription 
"Know  thyself, "3  and  in  a  manner  suggestive  of 
modern  conceptions:  "I  must  first  'know  myself,'  as 
the  Delphian  inscription  says ;  to  be  curious  about  that 
which  is  not  my  concern,  while  I  am  still  in  ignorance 
of  my  own  self,  would  be  ridiculous.  .  .  .  Am  I  a 
monster  more  complicated  and  swollen  with  passion 
than  the  serpent  Typho,  or  a  creature  of  a  gentler  and 
simpler  sort?"  *  Although  Socrates  asked  such  ques- 
tions, he  did  not  attempt  to  answer  them  by  any 
method  which  to-day  would  be  called  introspective. 
In  his  mind  these  queries  rather  served  a  disciplinary 
purpose;  much,  indeed,  as  the  modern  philosopher 
loves  to  propound  anew  the  ultimate  enigmas  in  order 
both  to  humble  his  reader  and  to  justify  his  specula- 
tion. Plato's  introduction  to  the  "Alcibiades" 5  (the 
authenticity  of  which  remains  in  doubt)  contains  a 
paragraph  wherein  Socrates  recommends  his  "sweet 
friend"  to  attain  self-knowledge  through  observation 
and  an  open  mind.6 

There  is  small  suggestion  of  any  real  "looking 
within"  about  this.  Yet  there  are  historians  who  still 
insist  in  placing  upon  Plato  the  entire  responsibility 


THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE  75 

for  the  modern  interest  in  self.  Notwithstanding  the 
fact  that  Plato  specifically  condemns  it  as  a  weakness, 
— and  this  for  reasons  to  be  noted  later, — this  fact  of 
his  depreciation  of  the  Ego  has  been  held  by  these  crit- 
ics to  constitute  the  source  of  the  later  Christian  doc- 
trine of  self -mortification ! 7 

No  doubt  the  conception  of  a  multiple  personality, 
of  an  Ego,  which  was  not  one  but  two,  or  even  more ; 
of  one  Self  ruling,  or  watching,  or  struggling  with 
another  Self,  is  very,  very  old.  No  doubt  it  is  the 
first  of  our  conceptions  the  formation  of  which  was 
due  to  a  deliberate  effort  at  introspection,  however 
rudimentary.  There  are  traditions,  for  example,  that 
Pythagoras  recommended  self-examination  to  his  dis- 
ciples, but  they  remain  traditions.8  Such  a  conception, 
at  such  a  time,  must  have  been  a  veritable  tour-de- 
force; and  would  necessarily  have  been  followed  by  a 
reaction. 

Comments  are  freely  made  by  critics  and  historians 
on  the  incapacity  or  the  unwillingness  of  the  Greeks 
to  let  us  see  anything  whatever  of  their  thinking  and 
feeling  selves.  It  was  a  practice  so  foreign  to  their 
habit  of  mind,  that  when  Pater  causes  Marius  "to  keep 
a  register  of  the  movements  of  his  own  private 
thoughts  or  humors/'  he  is  obliged  to  excuse  the  pro- 
ceeding for  his  hero,  by  terming  it  a  "modernism." 
' '  The  ancient  writers,  * '  Pater  continues, ' '  having  been 
jealous  for  the  most  part  of  affording  us  so  much  as  a 
glimpse  of  that  interior  self,  which,  in  many  cases, 
would  have  actually  doubled  the  interest  of  their 
objective  informations." 9 

This  incapacity  or  unwillingness  becomes  more  com- 


76  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

prehensible  when  we  turn  from  the  Greek  mind  itself, 
to  the  nature  of  the  beliefs  with  which  it  was  filled. 
To  us,  maturity  means  self-knowledge,  and  self-knowl- 
edge implies  the  ability  to  distinguish  the  subjective 
from  the  objective,  the  actuality  from  the  illusion. 
Our  minds  have  incorporated  into  such  ideas  the  ex- 
periences of  many  centuries,  and  so  completely,  that  to 
detach  our  ideas  from  their  fundamental  bases  is  diffi- 
cult, if  not  impossible.  Let  us  try,  at  least,  to  conceive 
the  Greek  imagination  as  filled  wholly  with  the  con- 
ception of  forces  possessing  a  real,  objective  existence. 
The  Self,  or  Spirit,  was  as  real  to  him,  as  it  is  to-day 
to  the  Australian  bushman,  and  in  much  the  same  way. 
It  was  no  less  than  a  little,  tangible  image  of  the  man, 
winged,  elusive,  and  under  the  control  of  powerful  in- 
visible forces  quite  outside  the  natural  visible  forces 
which  he  understood.  Its  movements,  passions,  and 
destination  were  not  in  the  least  affected  by  the  will  of 
the  possessor.  Naturally,  therefore,  he  did  not  like 
to  talk  about  it,  nor  indeed  to  think  or  write  about  it ; 
since,  when  he  did  so,  he  only  felt  the  more  his  help- 
lessness in  the  grasp  of  Destiny.  Moreover,  to  ex- 
amine too  closely  into  the  habits  of  this  co-dweller, 
might  be  apt  to  call  down  upon  the  inquisitive  the 
wrath  of  his  gods,  whose  power  lay  in  their  mystery. 
No  wonder  the  Greek  remained  jealous  of  affording 
us  any  glimpse  into  that  interior  self, — real  dweller 
on  the  threshold  of  life! 

A  change,  of  course,  in  these  semi-savage  imagina- 
tions came  at  last.  And  for  this  change,  and  its  bear- 
ing on  the  development  of  the  introspective  tendency, 
one  must  turn  to  the  histories  of  philosophy.  One 


THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE  77 

and  all,  these  unite  in  attributing  to  that  strange  group 
of  men,  known  as  the  Greek  Sophists,  the  first  attempt 
at  a  definitely  subjective  philosophical  conception.10 
Yet,  if  one  bears  in  mind  the  fact  that  to  the  Greek, 
his  eidolon,  his  image  of  himself,  which  comes  near  to 
what  to-day  we  should  call  the  soul,  had  a  definitely 
objective  existence,  much  of  his  antagonism  to  the 
Sophist  teaching  is  made  plain.  We  understand  much 
better  why  he  felt  it  to  be  destructive. 

Turning  to  inner  experience,  the  Sophists  made 
what  is  believed  to  be  the  first  attempt  to  study  man, 
through  his  mental  life.  Their  doctrine,  startling  in 
its  novelty,  held  that  religion  lies  within  our  con- 
sciousness, and  does  not  reside  in  the  performance  of 
traditional  rites  and  customs.11  Protagoras,  the  first 
to  avow  himself  Sophist,12  stated  the  formula,  "Man 
is  the  measure  of  all  things ; " 13  which,  if  accepted, 
takes  for  granted  a  modern  attitude,  and  no  small 
amount  of  subjectivism.  Tracing  his  idea  to  its  source, 
it  will  be  remembered  that  tradition  assigns  to  Pro- 
tagoras as  teacher  that  Democritus  of  Abdera,  in  whose 
doctrine  a  high  place  was  allotted  to  a  distinct  con- 
ception of  soul.  This  soul,  we  know  must  have  been 
objective;  it  was  the  eidolon  of  the  man.  Yet,  in 
itself,  such  a  conception  postulates  a  rudimentary  in- 
trospection; while  there  remain  to  us  also  fragments 
by  Democritus  of  an  autobiographical  character.14 

Even  the  developed  subjective  doctrines  of  the 
Sophists  seem  to-day  elementary  from  the  philosophi- 
cal point  of  view,  but  their  tendency  is  significant. 
That  such  tendency  should  have  produced  little  of  defi- 
nite importance  is  not  surprising  when  we  know  that 


78  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

most  of  the  facts  essential  to  the  formation  of  a  sub- 
jective philosophy  were  lacking  at  the  time,  even  to 
those  men  who  held  the  soul  to  be  distinct  from 
the  body,  and  who  advocated  a  study  of  self.  The 
entrance  into  the  field  of  investigation  at  this  point 
of  the  ethnologist  and  anthropologist,  with  their  com- 
parative data,  opens  a  new  and  fascinating  approach 
to  the  study  of  mental  development,  nor  is  it  possible 
to  ignore  that  striking  theory  wherein  Tylor  accounts 
by  his  data  upon  animism,  for  the  first  subjective 
tendencies  of  thought. 

Tylor 's  arguments  are  exceedingly  interesting,  and 
we  shall  have  frequent  occasion  to  refer  to  them  in  a 
later  section  of  this  book.  "The  savage  thinker,"  he 
writes,  "though  occupying  himself  so  much  with  the 
phenomena  of  life,  sleep,  disease,  and  death,  seems 
to  have  taken  for  granted,  as  a  matter  of  course,  the 
ordinary  operations  of  his  own  mind.  It  hardly  oc- 
curred to  him  to  think  about  the  machinery  of  think- 
ing. .  .  .  The  metaphysical  philosophy  of  thought 
taught  in  our  modern  European  lecture-rooms  is  his- 
torically traced  back  to  the  speculative  psychology  of 
ancient  Greece.  .  .  .  When  Democritus  propounded 
the  great  problem  of  metaphysics,  'How  do  we  per- 
ceive external  things?'  ...  he  put  forth,  in  answer, 
...  a  theory  of  thought.  He  explained  the  fact  of 
perception  by  declaring  that  things  are  always  throw- 
ing off  images  (eidola)  of  themselves,  which  images 
.  .  .  enter  a  recipient  soul  and  are  thus  perceived. 
.  .  .  Writers  ...  are  accustomed  to  treat  the  doc- 
trine as  actually  made  by  the  philosophical  school 
which  taught  it.  Yet  the  evidence  here  brought  for- 


THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE  79 

ward  shows  it  to  be  really  the  savage  doctrine  of 
object-souls,  turned  to  a  new  purpose  as  a  method  of 
explaining  the  phenomena  of  thought.  ...  To  say 
that  Democritus  was  an  ancient  Greek  is  to  say  that 
from  his  childhood  he  had  looked  on  at  the  funeral 
ceremonies  of  his  country,  beholding  the  funeral  sacri- 
fices of  garments  and  jewels  and  money  and  food  and 
drink,  rites  which  his  mother  and  his  nurse  could  tell 
him  were  performed  in  order  that  the  phantasmal 
images  of  these  objects  might  pass  into  the  possession 
of  forms  shadowy  like  themselves,  the  souls  of  dead 
men.  Thus?  Democritus,  seeking  a  solution  of  his 
great  problem  of  the  nature  of  thought,  found  it  by 
simply  decanting  into  his  metaphysics  a  surviving  doc- 
trine of  primitive  savage  animism.  .  .  .  Lucretius  ac- 
tually makes  the  theory  of  film-like  images  of  things 
(simulacra,  membrance)  account  for  both  the  appari- 
tions which  come  to  men  in  dreams  and  the  images 
which  impress  their  minds  in  thinking.  So  unbroken 
is  the  continuity  of  philosophic  speculation  from  sav- 
age to  cultured  thought.  Such  are  the  debts  which 
civilized  philosophy  owes  to  primitive  animism. ' ' 15 

These  brilliant  pages  of  a  brilliant  book  have  a 
significance  for  us  in  the  course  of  the  present  enquiry 
which  they  have  acquired  since  they  were  written ;  and 
the  last  two  sections  of  this  work  must  needs  return  to 
them.  By  connecting  the  doctrine  of  object-souls  with 
the  first  efforts  of  the  Greek  mind  in  formulating  a 
coherent  metaphysics,  Tylor  establishes  many  other 
links  in  that  continuity  between  savage  and  civilized 
thought.  Yet  one  must  not  allow  these  ideas  wholly  to 
submerge  his  mind.  The  whole  significance  of  Protag- 


80  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

oras  and  his  disciples,  and  of  the  Sophist  teachings, 
lies  just  in  the  fact  that  they  made  the  first  definite 
attempt  to  get  away  from  the  animistic  doctrine  lin- 
gering over  from  savage  times,  and  that  this  effort  was 
one  of  the  results  of  an  elementary  introspection.  The 
endeavor  of  the  Sophist  to  study  mental  life,  by  turn- 
ing toward  inner  experience,  led  to  his  first  shadowy 
perception  of  subjectivity,  and  to  a  differentiation 
between  that  reality  and  the  appearance  with  which 
men  so  often  confounded  it.  Once  men,  through 
self -observation,  began  to  perceive  the  illusory  nature 
of  much  that  had  seemed  to  them  real,  and  imbued 
with  life, — once  they  had  come  to  grasp  the  signifi- 
cance of  their  own  state  of  mind,  an  immense  stride 
had  been  made  away  from  savagery.  Just  the  differ- 
ence between  the  beliefs  of  to-day  and  those  of  the 
ancient  or  medieval  world,  lies  in  the  fact  that  the 
modern  mind  is  introspective  enough  to  perceive  the 
subjective  nature  of  many  of  those  impulses  which, 
to  the  Greek,  possessed  an  objective  existence. 

Protagoras,  therefore,  marked  an  era  in  more  senses 
than  one.  There  is  an  especial  suggestiveness  in  the 
fact  that  the  teachings  of  the  Sophists  were  received 
with  general  distrust.  That  there  was,  after  all,  but 
slight  reason  for  holding  Protagoras  and  his  followers 
to  constitute  an  influence  toward  public  corruption, 
is  of  less  interest  than  the  fact  that  by  public  opinion 
they  were  so  regarded.  The  antagonism  which  has  been 
noted  is  thus  seen  to  be  no  new  antagonism ;  it  is  a  dis- 
like and  distrust  sprung  up  among  that  portion  of 
mankind  who  are  still  to  be  found  clinging  instinc- 
tively to  standards  of  the  normal  which  have  long 


THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE  81 

ceased  to  obtain.  Unquestionably,  the  Sophistical  doc- 
trines tended  toward  the  destructive  effects  inherent 
in  any  broad,  general  scepticism ;  and  apparently  they 
failed  to  satisfy  the  robust  mental  needs  of  their 
day.16 

The  present  writer,  in  a  former  volume,17  commented 
on  the  fact  that  no  definitive  history  of  the  subjective 
trend  in  literature  has  been  written,  and  that  its  ori- 
gins remain  complex  and  obscure.  What  is  true  of 
subjectivity  in  general,  is  true  of  introspection  in 
particular.  The  omission  is  of  importance,  because, 
the  more  one  studies  the  subject,  the  more  it  seems  as 
though  a  history  of  introspection  involves  the  ap- 
proach of  philosophy  from  a  new  direction.  For 
what,  after  all,  is  philosophy,  if  it  be  not  our  intellec- 
tual effort  to  systematize  all  our  conclusions  respecting 
the  phenomena  of  life  and  nature,  which  seem  to  us 
so  capricious  and  inexplicable  ?  And  of  these  phenom- 
ena, those  proceeding  out  of  our  own  consciousness, 
and  constituting  our  own  personality,  will  ever  be 
the  most  vital. 

We  know  that  it  is  practically  impossible  for  philos- 
ophy to  do  without  the  consideration  of  these  phenom- 
ena for  any  length  of  time.  Their  vitality  remains 
unimpaired  despite  the  philosophers  who  claim  to  ig- 
nore them,  and  to  despise  that  psychology  which  is 
the  science  created  for  the  purpose  of  dealing  with 
them  in  detail. 

Such  an  one  was  Auguste  Comte,  who  stated  that 
' '  after  two  thousand  years  of  psychology  no  one  prop- 
osition is  established  to  the  satisfaction  of  its  fol- 
io wers." 18  This  belief  is  founded  upon  the  idea  that 


82  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

psychology  is  necessarily  dependent  upon  metaphysics, 
and  metaphysics  upon  introspection.  Comte  denies 
that  the  intellect  can  pause  during  its  activities  to  ex- 
amine its  processes.  That  such  processes  could  come 
in  the  future  to  be  automatically  registered  by  means 
of  machinery,  Comte,  of  course,  had  no  idea,  since  his 
work  antedates  the  precise  experiment  of  the  psycho- 
logical laboratory.  It  may  be  true  that,  if  we  use  the 
first  term  in  its  modern  sense,  psychology  and  meta- 
physics are  no  longer  interdependent;  they  have, 
indeed,  differentiated  since  the  days  of  the  St.  Victors. 
And  it  remains  equally  true,  be  one's  conclusion  what 
it  may,  that  in  the  realm  of  metaphysics  every  theorist, 
from  Descartes  to  Bergson,  has  been  forced  to  rely 
upon  introspection  as  an  essential  factor.  Is  Comte 
thereby  justified  in  claiming  that  no  progress  has  been 
made  on  this  account  ? 19 

The  nature  of  any  philosophical  advance  is  two- 
fold ;  it  may  be  an  advance  in  idea,  it  may  be  an  ad- 
vance in  method.  Comte  may  be  right  in  denying 
that  introspection,  in  se,  has  been  the  means  of  fur- 
nishing any  ideas  to  philosophy;  but  without  the  use 
of  introspective  methods,  few  of  those  ideas  could  have 
obtained  a  hearing.  In  metaphysics,  for  instance,  it 
is  practically  impossible  to  make  any  proposition  clear, 
without  a  decided  degree  of  "looking  within/'  in  order 
to  force  one's  hearer  to  "look  within"  also.  The 
metaphysician  must  tell  his  reader  what  passes  in  his 
own  mind,  and  the  reader  must  "look  within"  and  see 
if  this  be  true.  Explanations  do  not  explain  unless 
one's  inner  observation  confirms  them.  A  writer's 
statement  of  what  he  has  found  to  be  true  in  him- 


THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE  83 

self  has  no  vitality,  no  significance  for  the  reader, 
until  this  reader  pauses  and  looks  inward  to  see  if  it 
be  equally  true  in  his  own  case.  If  it  be  not,  he 
shakes  his  head  and  throws  aside  his  book;  if  it  be, 
the  philosopher  has  gained  an  adherent.  In  any 
case,  upon  this  faculty  of  introspection,  the  meta- 
physician is  bound  to  rely — and  it  therefore  follows 
as  a  corollary,  that  the  degree  of  introspection  prev- 
alent among  certain  societies  and  at  certain  times  has 
had  a  powerful  influence  upon  the  spread  of  certain 
doctrines.  Kealizing  this  necessary  reliance,  the  Ger- 
man school  of  philosophy  has  for  more  than  a  century 
made  copious  use  of  the  first  person,  of  the  introspec- 
tive demand  upon  the  reader,  and  of  the  argument 
by  direct  personal  experience.  Self-examination  and 
introspection  have  been  the  very  foundation  stones  of 
the  German  metaphysical  philosophies.20 

The  connection  between  introspection  and  meta- 
physics is  not  closer  than  the  connection  of  intro- 
spection with  religion.  The  earliest  possible  exercise 
of  this  faculty  in  half-civilized  man  must  have  been 
to  heighten  any  religious  sentiment.  So  soon  as  any 
introspection  is  possible  to  a  man,  there  springs  up  in 
his  imagination  the  resultant  conception  of  a  dual  or 
multiple  personality.  This  is  his  way  of  defining 
what  happens  when  he  " looks  inward"  and  perforce 
decides  that  there  exists  in  himself  a  something  which 
looks,  and  a  something  which  is  being  looked  at. 
The  appreciation  of  this  dual  state  is  by  no  means 
confined  to  the  metaphysician;  it  is  a  world-wide  and 
common  possession  of  our  humanity.  Colloquial 
speech  is  full  of  idioms,  phrases,  and  imagery  which 


84  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

show  its  realization.  In  English,  such  sentences  as, 
"It  lies  between  me  and  my  conscience,"  or,  "You 
were  more  frightened  than  you  realized,"  give  ex- 
pression to  this  conception  of  the  many  in  the  one. 
Now  this  very  conception  must  necessarily  have  some 
religious  significance.  It  is  inextricably  interwoven 
with  ideas  of  good  and  evil,  and  with  the  perpetual 
struggle  between  darkness  and  light.  Our  selves  were 
felt  by  the  Church  to  hide  innumerable  puzzling  and 
dangerous  entities  which  could  be  routed  only  when 
we  turned  the  light  of  self -observation  into  our  darker 
corners. 

Hence  the  insistence  early  laid  by  the  Church  on 
the  daily  exercise  of  a  stringent  self-examination.  It 
is  commended  as  a  discipline  and  as  a  means  of 
perfection.21  The  great  abbot,  Eichard  of  St.  Victor, 
whose  doctrines  had  such  vogue  during  the  Renais- 
sance, gave  word  to  the  cumulative  thought  of  many 
centuries,  when  he  wrote  his  reasons  for  introspection. 
"Who  thirsts  to  see  his  God,"  he  cried,  "let  him 
cleanse  his  mirror  and  purify  his  spirit.  After  he 
hath  thus  cleared  his  mirror,  long  and  diligently 
gazed  into  it, — a  certain  clarity  of  divine  light  begins 
to  shine  through  upon  him,  and  a  certain  immense  ray 
of  unwonted  vision  to  appear  before  his  eyes.  From 
this  vision  the  mind  is  wondrously  inflamed."  Here 
are  the  introspective  practices  advocated  as  a  means  of 
contemplation,  which  has  always  been  their  first  use  to 
the  mystical  mind; — but  Eichard  goes  somewhat  fur- 
ther. ' '  If  the  mind  would  fain  ascend  to  the  height  of 
science,  let  its  first  and  principal  study  be  to  know 
itself, " 22  he  says ;  thus  showing  in  his  proper  person 


THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE  85 

that  the  effect  of  the  earlier,  rudimentary  self -study 
leads  to  mysticism. 

In  Jeremy  Taylor 's  ' '  Holy  Living  and  Dying, ' '  the 
diligent  and  frequent  scrutiny  of  self  is  recommended, 
as  the  fit  preparation  for  each  night's  rest;  "when  we 
compose  ourselves,"  as  the  good  bishop  quaintly  puts 
it,  "to  the  little  images  of  death."23  But  by  his 
reference  to  Seneca  throughout  this  chapter,  the  reader 
gathers  that  the  influences  traceable  in  Taylor's 
thought  were  stoical  and  pagan  rather  than  Chris- 
tian and  Catholic.  In  any  case,  it  will  be  enough  to 
show  that  the  practice  of  self-examination  is  every- 
where not  only  generally  preached,  but  was  fol- 
lowed from  earliest  times.  Ephraim  Syrus  is  quoted 
as  practicing  it  twice  daily  and  as  comparing  him- 
self to  the  merchant  who  keeps  a  daily  balance.24 
Basil,  Gregory  the  Great,  and  Bernard  commend  it.25 
Origen  held  that  self-knowledge  through  self-contem- 
plation was  a  part  of  the  Divine  "Wisdom.26  What 
Augustin  felt  we  know.  Jerome  may  not  have 
preached  a  doctrine  of  self -study,  but  that  he  prac- 
ticed it  his  letters  and  treatises  testify.27 

The  question  of  the  immediate  effect  of  Christian- 
ity and  its  teachings  upon  any  latent  introspective 
tendency,  is  one  of  great  interest.  Existence  of  this 
tendency  at  all  must  necessarily  imply  that  man  is  no 
longer  that  savage  "who  took  for  granted  the  ordinary 
operations  of  his  own  mind."28  It  must,  therefore, 
have  made  its  appearance  comparatively  late  in  his 
evolution,  and  it  rather  belongs  to  his  equipment 
of  maturity.  Once  it  be  assumed  that  a  stage  in 
mental  growth  was  reached  at  which  man's  intellectual 


86  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

curiosity  turned  inward  for  its  satisfaction,  then  not 
only  the  influence,  but  the  acceptance  of  Christianity 
as  a  religion,  becomes  clear.  Not  only  did  the  Chris- 
tian doctrine  give  impetus  to  all  introspective  prac- 
tices; but  the  latent  tendency  toward  greater  sub- 
jectivity of  thought  itself  made  for  the  success  of  the 
Christian  faith.  The  rite  of  confession,  with  which 
we  have  just  dealt  in  the  preceding  chapter,  must 
have  both  heightened  and  directed  such  tendency. 

This  idea  of  the  importance  of  self  was  compara- 
tively new,  for  at  least  it  had  not  been  advocated  in 
any  coherent  system  among  the  ancients.  The  learned 
world  of  the  first  and  second  centuries,  therefore,  was 
without  classical  guide  in  the  presence  of  this  new 
force.  Plato  had  depreciated  the  Ego,  which  he 
taught  also  it  was  healthy  to  ignore.  The  Christian 
philosopher,  while  he  might  believe  with  Pascal  that 
"Le  Moi  est  haissable,"  yet  constantly  magnified  the 
Ego  by  discussing  and  cataloguing  its  iniquities.29 
When  to  save  his  own  soul  became  man's  first  busi- 
ness, he  must  needs  know  that  soul,  must  study,  must 
examine  it.  Prescribed  as  a  duty,  introspection  be- 
came at  once  a  main  characteristic  of  religious  life. 
Those  great  contemplatives  and  saints,  upon  whose 
guidance  the  whole  of  early  Christianity  depended, 
established  the  cult  of  introspection  and  introspective 
practices.  It  seems  as  though  they  must  have  recog- 
nized as  a  truth  the  generalization  "that  the  senti- 
ment of  religion  is  in  its  origin  and  nature  purely 
personal  and  subjective. ' ' 30 

That  the  tendency  toward  subjectivity  was  present 


THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE  87 

to  assist  the  spread  of  Christianity,  we  know  by  its 
appearance  under  other  shapes  during  the  same  cen- 
turies, and  chiefly  by  its  government  of  certain 
markedly  non-Christian  philosophies  and  philosophers. 
A  favorite  assumption  on  the  part  of  some  Church 
historians  holds  that  the  introspective  tendency  in  the 
work  of  Seneca  or  of  Marcus  Aurelius  is  accounted  for 
by  their  real  but  concealed  sympathy  with  certain 
Christian  doctrines.  The  world's  general  intellectual 
disposition  to  "look  within/'  which  disposition  had  its 
religious  as  well  as  its  philosophical  side,  would  ap- 
pear to  be  the  more  accurate  explanation.  Nor  must 
it  be  forgotten  that  the  Stoic  doctrines  by  which  these 
writers  were  influenced,  were  informed  by  a  deep  sense 
of  moral  responsibility  which  augmented  the  tend- 
ency.31 To  a  serious  nature,  any  introspective  prac- 
tice intensifies  the  importance  of  conduct,  independ- 
ently of  the  religious  rite  to  which  he  may  be  accus- 
tomed. Seneca32  advocates  self -study  as  a  personal 
duty.  "I  use  this  power,"  he  declares,  "and  daily 
examine  myself  when  the  light  is  out  and  my  wife  is 
silent.  I  examine  the  whole  day  that  is  past  .  .  . 
and  consider  both  my  actions  and  words.  I  hide 
nothing  from  myself;  I  let  nothing  slip,  for  why 
should  I  fear  any  of  mine  errors?"  This  last  phrase 
is  in  the  key  of  Rousseau — a  valid  justification  for  any 
self-analysis.  More  familiar  to  the  reader,  perhaps, 
are  the  passages  in  which  Marcus  Aurelius  expresses 
the  same  influence  at  work  upon  his  mental  life.33  The 
Greek  Epictetus,34  in  the  second  century,  held  also, 
"The  beginning  of  philosophy  to  him  at  least  who 


88  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

enters  on  it  in  the  right  way  ...  is  a  consciousness  of 
his  own  weakness, ' '  thus  more  or  less  predicating  self - 
study. 

One  evidence  of  the  growth  of  subjective  thought  at 
this  time,  will  be  found  when  we  turn  to  that  group  of 
philosophical  writers,  who,  gathered  in  Alexandria, 
made  the  last  definite,  intellectual  stand  against  the 
Christian  doctrine.  The  Neo-Platonists  have  certain 
characteristics  which  later  were  to  become  loosely 
identified  with  Christianity;  but  which  in  reality  are 
but  another  manifestation  of  similar  tendencies. 
Their  mysticism  is  due  less  to  the  influence  of  Chris- 
tian mystics,  than  to  the  fact  that  it  is  sprung  from 
a  similar  source.  The  reader  will  not  forget — it  is 
of  even  greater  importance  later  in  this  discussion 
— that  the  first  effect  of  all  elementary  or  imperfect 
self-study  is  mysticism.  The  first  emotion  raised  by 
any  " looking  inward"  is  wonder,  and  a  sense  that 
a  new  world  has  been  opened  to  the  traveller.  Upon 
the  path  through  this  world — the  via — only  the  mys- 
tically inclined  sets  forth — only  the  genuine  mystic 
arrives  at  the  goal.  From  the  third  to  the  fifth  cen- 
turies, the  Neo-Platonists,  markedly  influenced  by 
their  efforts  at  introspection,  practically  anticipated, 
in  the  person  of  Plotinus,  the  Christian  mediaeval 
mysticism.  For  instance,  it  is  recorded  that  four 
times  in  six  years  Plotinus  attained  to  that  ecstatic 
moment  of  union  with  God,  which,  first  in  the  Mid- 
dle Ages,  was  called  unification.36  The  doctrines  of 
this  philosophical  school  show  introspective  tenden- 
cies not  unlike  those  of  the  Christian  philosophy. 
The  Enneads  of  Plotinus,  by  an  analysis  of  the 


THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE  89 

senses,  by  the  thesis  that  to  know  the  Divine  is  the 
property  of  a  higher  faculty,  and  one  in  which  the 
subject  becomes  identified  with  its  object,  show  the  re- 
sult of  a  systematic  attempt  at  psychological  intro- 
spection. Once  this  fact  is  clear,  Neo-Platonism 
ceases  to  seem  fantastic  or  bizarre ;  it  becomes  rather 
the  logical  effect  from  a  cause.  Any  elementary 
introspection  undertaken  without  scientific  knowl- 
edge or  guidance,  is  apt  to  lead  the  mind  in  the 
direction  of  transcendentalism.  The  mind's  eye — 
" looking  inward" — is  confused  by  what  it  sees,  by 
the  action  and  interaction  of  the  intellect,  the  senses, 
the  emotions,  and  the  will.  How  is  the  ignorant 
and  inexperienced  self -observer  to  differentiate? 
Since  all  is  mystery,  only  mystery  accounts  for  all. 
Thus  we  see  in  the  fifth  century  that  Proclus,36  analyz- 
ing Plato's  "Know  Thyself,"  appears  to  take  for 
granted  that  to  look  truly  within  is  to  provide  the 
only  means  of  looking  truly  without.  Thus  follow 
his  ideas  of  Divine  revelation,  since  the  inward  eye 
alone  may  catch  the  flash  of  divinely  directed  inspira- 
tion. By  another  route,  the  same  conclusion  is  reached 
by  the  mediaeval  mystic,  when  he,  too,  looking  within, 
confuses  and  misinterprets  the  phenomena  he  beholds. 
Porphyry,  in  his  letter  to  Anebo,  and  lamblichus  in  the 
answer  thereto,  had  already  begun  to  formulate  a  sys- 
tematic demonology ; 37  but  these  ideas  were  succeeded 
by  the  more  abstract  ones  of  Proclus, — that  last  flame 
in  the  flickering  Alexandrian  lamp. 

Christianity,  while  embodying  many  of  the  inherent 
principles  of  Neo-Platonism,  had  an  anchor  in  the  form 
of  its  ethical  conceptions,  which  were  of  the  most 


90  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

objective  and  definite  type.  Among  other  advantages 
over  Neo-Platonism,  was  that  of  the  practical  applica- 
bility of  its  philosophy  to  the  various  minds  around 
it.  Neo-Platonism  held  an  introspection  merely  specu- 
lative, and  as  incapable  of  evolving  any  scientific 
method  as  it  was  of  using  any  scientific  material.  As 
a  philosophy  it  was  necessarily  sterile  and  perishable, 
but  it  holds  interest  for  us  as  a  landmark  in  the  history 
of  the  subjective  and  introspective  tendency. 

It  has  been  noted  that  Augustin's  mastery  in  the 
portrayal  of  psychical  states  "formed  a  new  starting- 
point  for  philosophy/'38  The  metaphysics  of  inner 
experience  took  their  rise  in  his  ability  to  use,  with  a 
fresh  meaning,  the  suggestions  of  Plotinus.  His  in- 
tense consciousness  of  self,  of  personality,  lifts  him 
above  the  mists  of  his  time ;  while  by  his  doubts  and 
fears,  he  repeats  the  "Cogito;  ergo  sum"  of  Descartes. 
Augustin,  the  first  great  Christian  psychologist,  uses 
with  the  vitality  of  genius  the  tentative  or  ill-defined 
ideas  prevalent  in  his  day;  and  through  him  Chris- 
tianity came  to  absorb  the  suggestions  of  Neo-Plato- 
nism. Moreover,  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  the  di- 
rect effect  of  the  introspective  tendency  upon  Chris- 
tianity is  as  marked  as  the  effect,  a  little  later,  of 
Christian  teaching  upon  introspection.  In  showing 
man  how  to  preserve  "the  reverent  relation  to  his  own 
past/'39  there  is  added  to  the  need  of  "looking 
within"  that  other  need  of  looking  backward,  of  sur- 
veying the  whole  of  one's  life  as  a  process,  divinely 
guided,  and  with  salvation  for  an  object.  Thus,  from 
the  Christian  standpoint,  no  duty  is  more  religious 
than  introspection;  and  no  practices  testify  more 


THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE  91 

deeply  to  the  religious  import  of  life  than  do  self- 
study  and  self-examination. 

Before  proceeding  further,  it  would  seem  necessary 
to  look  a  little  more  closely  into  the  nature  of  that 
self-consciousness  from  which,  according  to  Schopen- 
hauer,40 we  proceed.  No  longer  is  Schopenhauer  held 
to  be  our  guide,  yet  it  is  important  that  we  should 
know  something  more  of  our  self -consciousness.  How 
has  it  been  observed  and  how  determined?  Until  the 
last  century,  all  theories  on  the  subject  must  have 
been  necessarily  a  priori.  There  is  hardly  a  portion 
of  the  body,  from  the  spine  to  the  pineal  gland,  which 
has  not  in  turn  been  named  as  the  seat  of  self-con- 
sciousness, or  the  Ego.41  When  one  reads  some  of 
these  theories,  one  is  not  amazed  at  Comte's  estimate 
of  psychology;  and  even  to-day,  in  the  face  of  more 
precise  experiment,  one  is  constantly  confronted  by 
expressions  which  show  how  little  has  really  been  ac- 
complished. 

"Man  by  the  very  constitution  of  his  mind,"  says 
Caird42  ".  .  .  can  look  outwards  .  .  .  inwards,  and 
upwards.  He  is  essentially  self-conscious";  and 
again:  "Man  looks  outward  before  he  looks  inward, 
and  looks  inward  before  he  looks  upward."  This  is 
more  antithetical  than  accurate.  Tylor  and  others 
would  seem  to  show  beyond  dispute  that  man  looks  up- 
ward before  he  looks  inward ;  and  scientific  observation 
adds  in  her  turn  that  once  he  begins  to  look  inward, 
then  he  rarely  comes  again  to  look  upward  in  the  same 
way.  Introspection  and  introspective  habits  have  a 
way  of  absorbing  a  man's  religious  energies,  caus- 
ing him  to  watch  and  follow  the  religious  life  wholly  as 


92  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

within  himself.  Fascinated  by  the  inward  stir  and 
tumult,  he  lifts  his  eyes  from  it  no  more,  but  passes 
through  the  world  listening  only  to  the  inward  voice, 
seeing  only  the  inward  vision.  The  outer  world,  the 
world  outside  of  self,  is  very  dim  and  insubstantial 
to  such  an  one,  who  to  many  of  us  has  represented  our 
so-called  highest  religious  type — the  mystic  or  con- 
templative. Such  were  the  two  St.  Victors,  the  Ab- 
bots Hugh  and  Kichard,  in  whose  ideas  mysticism  and 
philosophy  were  blended.43  Now  the  highest  type  of 
metaphysical  philosopher  resembles  the  religious  mys- 
tic so  much  in  his  method,  that  we  are  apt  to  call  him 
mystical,  when  we  really  do  not  mean  mystical  but 
rather  introspective.  Both  of  them  are  attempting  the 
same  thing,  to  obtain  truth  by  watching  their  own 
processes  and  seeing  what  particular  truth  sought  is 
thereby  revealed  to  the  watcher;  and  either  one  may 
succeed  in  proportion  as  he  is  able  to  recognize  the 
different  elements  constituting  his  self -consciousness. 
How  is  he  able  to  do  this  ? 

The  study  of  mental  processes  is  a  recent  one,  for  it 
is  practically  only  since  the  experiments  of  the  modern 
psychological  laboratory  that  science  has  even  been 
willing  to  declare  what  is  truth  and  what  illusion,  what 
is  fact  and  what  fallacy  in  the  region  of  mind.  For 
centuries  men  worked  perforce  in  the  dark,  since  by 
its  very  constitution  the  brain  cannot  explain  itself, 
and,  when  passive,  no  organ  gives  less  hint  of  its  meth- 
ods.44 Hence,  the  world  failed  to  connect  the  brain 
with  feeling  at  all  (which  was  supposed  to  be  seated  in 
the  bowels,  or,  later,  in  the  heart),  until  a  compara- 
tively recent  date.  When  Paul  Broca45  gave  to  the 


THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE  93 

world,  in  1861,  his  discovery  of  the  activities  in  that 
convolution  which  now  bears  his  name,  he  did  much 
more  than  merely  to  determine  which  region  of  the 
brain  governed  our  speech.  He  gave  a  starting-point 
for  other  investigations  into  the  various  brain-regions, 
ideas  regarding  which  had  remained  in  confusion 
since  the  phrenological  fallacies  of  Gall. 

It  is  not  for  us  to  lead  the  student  through  the 
fascinating  by-paths  of  mental  physiology,  to  the  con- 
flicts which  still  rage  upon  the  subjects  of  Personality 
and  Self-Consciousness.  Space  and  authority  are  lack- 
ing here  for  any  proper  treatment  of  themes  so  per- 
plexing. Bather  will  we  ask  of  him  to  give  his  atten- 
tion to  some  of  the  views  expressed  by  the  psychologist 
regarding  the  results  obtained  by  the  use  of  introspec- 
tion in  this  field.  It  is  true  that  a  purely  introspective 
method  has  been  held  to  resemble  that  of  '  l  a  man  who 
tries  to  raise  himself  by  his  own  boot-straps"; 48  but 
it  is  also  true  that  but  for  an  original  faculty  and 
desire  of  " looking  within,"  we  should  never  know  we 
had  any  self-consciousness  or  personality  at  all.  The 
savage  is  unaware  of  any  self,  until  his  first  pause  of 
elementary  introspection  brings  that  fact  to  his  atten- 
tion. One  observes,  moreover,  that  until  he  attains  to 
that  point  of  self -consciousness,  any  deliberate  progress 
in  any  given  intellectual  direction  is  impossible  to  him. 
The  first  introspection,  therefore,  with  its  concom- 
itant first  self-consciousness,  is  a  crucial  moment  in  the 
history  of  mind.  During  that  moment  the  human  in- 
tellect crossed  at  one  leap  the  major  part  of  the  dis- 
tance which  lies  between  ourselves  and  such  a  creature 
as  the  Neanderthal  man. 


94  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

The  existence  of  which  we  are  the  best  assured  and 
which  we  know  the  best,"  says  a  recent  philosopher, 
"is  incontestably  our  own,  since  of  all  other  objects  we 
have  notions  which  one  might  judge  exterior  and 
superficial,  while  we  perceive  ourselves  interiorly  and 
profoundly."47 

This  consciousness  of  self  has  been  given  concrete 
illustration  by  a  number  of  self -students,  whose  obser- 
vations have  been  noted  in  a  previous  book.48  The 
profundity  and  power  of  their  interior  realization  has 
been  found  to  produce  a  species  of  terror,  an  emotion 
both  individual  and  indescribable,  whose  roots  strike 
into  primal  depths.  The  boy  who  cried  out  at  one  in- 
stant, "I  am  a  Me"! 49  was  experiencing  a  crisis  not 
only  individual,  but  racial  and  primitive;  and  it  is  a 
crisis  brought  about  by  the  first  attempt  at  introspec- 
tion. 

Since  the  result  of  this  first  introspection  is  ac- 
companied by  decided  and  characteristic  emotion,  the 
act  remains  significant  in  the  history  of  individual 
mental  development.  To  many  natures  it  points  a 
crisis,  and  such  natures  come  to  it  as  the  traveller 
stumbles  upon  a  forgotten  sign-board,  half -obliterated 
by  a  thicket  of  newer  growth.  Philosophy,  imperson- 
ating the  surveyor  of  this  strange  country,  must  take 
account  of  such  crucial  impulses.  And  there  are  other 
reasons  why  the  philosopher  still  clings  to  the  intro- 
spective method,  despite  the  continually  narrowing 
limitations  prescribed  by  science.  The  reader  will  find 
in  the  history  of  philosophy  something  of  the  struggle 
to  escape  from  introspection  and  to  provide  other 
means,  because  of  the  realization  that  interior  phe- 


THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE  95 

nomena  are  so  much  less  susceptible  of  direct  observa- 
tion than  are  exterior  phenomena.50 

Yet  this  realization  was  long  in  coming,  and  there 
was  a  period  in  the  world's  history  when  the  interior 
phenomena  must  have  seemed  the  clearer  of  the  two. 
Scholars  now  unite  in  thinking  that  the  first  attempts 
at  what  we  call  modern  psychology,  took  their  rise  in 
the  abbey  of  St.  Victor,  under  the  efforts  of  those  great 
mystics  known  as  the  Victorines.  The  first  of  these 
men,  Hugh  of  St.  Victor,  was  held  by  the  Middle  Ages 
so  high  as  an  authority,  that  he  received  the  name 
of  the  "second  Augustin."  His  works  are  quoted  by 
every  great  writer  and  doctor  of  the  time,  since  his 
attempt  to  formulate  a  system  of  mystical  philosophy 
appealed  at  once  to  the  intellect  and  to  the  piety 
around  him.  Even  to-day,  if  the  mysticism  of  Hugh 
seems  naif,  his  accent  is  still  that  of  a  spiritual  force. 
"All  the  world,"  he  wrote,  "is  a  place  of  exile  to 
philosophers,"  and  to  live  content  in  this  exile,  he 
believes  should  be  man's  aim.  Undoubtedly,  his  gen- 
eral transcendental  doctrine  has  had  more  listeners 
than  his  purely  philosophical  doctrine.  Naturally  a 
delicate,  an  exalted  temperament,  he  made  the  strong- 
est effort  to  combine  the  floating  mystical  ideas  of  the 
day  into  a  working  system.  Hugh  took  from  Dionysius 
and  applied  to  the  mystical  life,  the  idea  of  "spiritual 
grades  or  steps, ' '  by  whose  aid  the  soul  was  to  mount 
up  to  that  ineffable  union  with  God  which  is  conceived 
as  the  final  stage  in  the  mystical  way.  By  such  means, 
he  endeavored  to  intellectualize  the  entire  scheme  of 
mysticism,  substituting  for  the  three  usual  steps  of 
purgation,  illumination,  and  union,  three  other  steps  of 


96  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

cogitation,  meditation,  and  contemplation.  Any  at- 
tempt to  systematize  the  indefinable  is  foredoomed  to 
failure,  but  Hugh  and  his  successors  reached  a  primary 
consciousness  of  inner  experience.51  "With  constant 
delicate  perception  and  feeling,  through  constant  self- 
study  and  self-analysis,  this  introspective  habit  de- 
veloped powers  of  self -observation  till  then  unknown. 
The  history  of  one's  soul  became  the  most  important 
of  all  histories,  and  through  the  need  of  salvation 
there  arose  a  need  of  psychology. 

The  successor  and  nephew  of  Hugh  of  St.  Victor,  the 
abbot  Richard,  carried  out  the  psychological  work  of 
his  master  in  a  manner  yet  more  detailed,  and  with 
results  even  more  far-reaching.  Taking  for  his  great 
book  a  text  from  Psalms,  LXVH,  28  (in  the  Vulgate), 
"There  is  Benjamin,  a  youth  in  ecstasy  of  mind," 
Richard  of  St.  Victor  takes  the  type  of  an  ecstatic  as 
being  the  highest  possible  to  humanity.  He  thus  laid 
himself  open  to  all  that  rational  criticism  of  the  mys- 
tical life,  which  later  ages  cannot  forbear.  Such  criti- 
cism will  be  given  expression  in  another  section  of  this 
book,  for  our  purpose  is  to  consider  him  at  the  moment 
merely  in  the  character  of  an  embryonic  psychologist. 
"Full  knowledge  of  the  rational  spirit  is  a  great  and 
high  mountain, "  is  Richard's  teaching;  and  the  study 
of  self  becomes  a  prerequisite  to  an  entrance  upon  the 
Via  Mystica.  Moreover,  he  developed  the  system  of 
his  predecessor  into  a  still  more  minute  elaboration 
of  grades  and  steps,  by  which  very  definition  real  psy- 
chology was  considerably  advanced.  The  symbols,  the 
analogies  used  by  Richard  of  St.  Victor, — such  as  his 
comparison  of  the  thoughts  in  the  contemplative  mind 


THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE  97 

to  a  flock  of  little  birds,  ever  wheeling  and  returning, 
—all  have  suggestiveness  from  a  psychological  point 
of  view.52 

That  psychology  made  such  strides  in  the  work  of 
the  Victorines  was  possible  only  because  of  their  con- 
tinued introspection,  applied  steadily  in  the  direc- 
tion of  religious  experience.  The  use  of  the  intro- 
spective methods  continued  until  the  advance  of  the 
exact  sciences  began  to  impose  on  them  certain  nec- 
essary limitations.  Then  arose  a  conflict  out  of  which 
— at  the  beginning  of  the  last  century — developed  a 
reaction,  not  only  against  the  methods,  but  against 
psychology  itself. 

It  has  been  noted  how  Comte's  theory  regarded  the 
psychology  of  his  day.  Kant 5S  expressed  similar 
doubt,  if  less  formally,  while  yet  the  very  habit  of  his 
mind  was  profoundly  subjective.  The  French  phi- 
losopher characteristically  suggested  substituting  for 
introspection  the  classification  and  analysis  of  human 
phenomena,  which  is,  in  truth,  much  according  to  the 
modern  plan.  Herbart,54  by  his  effort  scientifically  to 
reduce  consciousness  to  its  simplest  elements,  opened 
the  door  for  the  experimental  psychology  of  to-day. 
The  feeling  among  philosophers  seems  to  be  that 
to  achieve  valid  results  by  introspective  methods, 
we  should  regard  ourselves  first  of  all  in  the  nature 
of  automata,  and  then,  having  registered  the  effects  of 
our  automatic  behavior,  bring  those  effects  under  the 
observation  of  our  conscious  intellect.  Once  its  defi- 
nite limitations  be  understood,  true  introspection  re- 
tains its  value  as  a  means  of  securing  data.  For  even 
if  a  man  really  believes  with  Taine,55  that  "Nul  ceil 


98  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

ne  pent  se  voir  soi-meme,"  yet  he  cannot  deny  that 
there  are  moments  in  his  life  when  the  veil  between 
him  and  himself  is  lifted.  If  every  person  now  living 
were  to  contribute  one  single  fact  about  himself,  the 
total  result  would  be  heterogeneous,  indeed,  but  it 
would  still  be  data.  Our  tendency,  therefore,  should 
be  not  to  disdain  introspection  in  psychology  as  value- 
less, but  rather  to  limit  its  observation  to  pre-deter- 
mined  fields ;  remembering  that  "no  interpretation  can 
be  arrived  at  without  the  direct  cognition  of  the  facts 
of  consciousness  obtained  by  means  of  introspection, 
aided  by  experiment. ' ' 56 

Training,  of  course,  is  of  the  utmost  importance  in 
this  regard.  As  introspection  grows  less  fortuitous, 
and,  being  trained,  becomes  more  accurate,  as  the 
mind,  ''looking  within,"  knows  when  to  look  and  for 
what  objects,  then  will  science  be  aided  and  not  merely 
hampered  by  the  contribution.  Meanwhile,  the  reader 
will  have  recognized:  First,  the  presence  of  the  sub- 
jective and  introspective  trend  as  indicating  a  certain 
stage  in  the  evolution  of  human  thought.  Second,  the 
developing  and  heightening  influence  of  introspection 
itself  on  all  religious  sentiment.  And  when  these  two 
ideas  shall  have  been  confirmed  by  the  third  and  most 
important,  namely,  that  an  elementary  introspection 
will  lead  the  subject  inevitably  toward  mysticism  and 
toward  transcendentalism,  the  purpose  of  this  exami- 
nation will  have  been,  in  the  main,  accomplished. 
Aided  by  these  conclusions,  the  reader  should  at  least 
be  better  able  to  understand  his  own  nature  in  the 
different  stages  of  its  growth  and  to  see  in  the  history 
of  introspection,  scientifically  considered,  nothing  less 


THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE  99 

than  the  movement  of  the  human  intellect  toward  ma- 
turity. 

It  may  be  well  to  ask  what  facts  can  the  introspec- 
tion of  the  past  be  said  to  have  contributed?  If  it 
has  done  nothing  else,  it  has  at  least  furnished  a 
starting-point  for  all  our  modern  conceptions  of  self- 
consciousness  and  identity.  Every  self-student  is 
aware  that  his  looking  within  has  given  him  a  number 
of  new  ideas,  together  with  the  power  to  differentiate 
his  old  ideas.  For  instance,  he  was  probably  unaware 
of  the  difference  between  consciousness  and  self -con- 
sciousness until  absorbed  in  the  effort  of  mental  con- 
centration which  continuous  introspection  involves. 
Then  he  notes  * '  a  succession  of  ideas  which  adjust  and 
readjust  themselves/'57  which  he  had  not  before  no- 
ticed and  in  which  there  is  very  little  actual  self -con- 
sciousness. In  ordinary  objective  life,  the  one  state 
practically  includes  the  other.  Another  contribution 
to  thought  which  we  owe  to  introspection  alone,  is  the 
better  definition  of  all  our  simple  concepts;  and  the 
discrimination  between  the  various  parts  of  our  more 
complex  concepts.  Without  a  systematic  introspection 
this  discrimination  would  have  been  impossible;  and 
Fichte  notes  it  as  present  even  in  the  most  fleeting 
self -observation.58 

Moreover,  without  the  introspection  of  the  past  we 
should  never  have  been  able  to  see  and  to  differentiate 
between  the  various  elements  of  the  Ego.  Observing 
the  Self  of  another  person  does  not  readily  aid  one  in 
such  differentiation,  because,  seen  from  our  own  sphere 
of  identity,  his  sphere  of  identity  appears  to  be  far 
more  homogeneous  and  unified  than  it  really  is. 


100  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

Without  looking  within,  the  psychologist 59  would  never 
have  been  able  to  observe  the  Ego  divided  into  the 
several  social,  material,  and  spiritual  selves,  with  their 
differing  constituents  and  qualities.  The  theories  de- 
scribing these  Selves  and  accounting  for  their  fission, 
change  too  fast  for  the  average  reader  to  keep  pace 
with  them;  but  his  own  "looking  within"  is  sufficient 
to  convince  him  that  there  are  many  selves  in  one.  He 
perforce  returns  again  and  again  to  this  conception, 
however  he  may  try  to  get  away  from  it,  and  he  is  just 
as  dependent  upon  it  to  explain  himself  to  himself  and 
others  to  himself,  as  he  was  in  the  days  of  Augustin. 
Moreover,  this  is  quite  as  true  of  the  most  vividly 
objective  person  among  us,  as  of  a  Cardan  or  a  Maine 
de  Biran.  ' '  A  psychological  sense  of  identity, ' '  to  use 
James's  phrase,  is  common  to  all  of  us,  and  in  all  ages. 
Placed  as  such  a  sense  is,  just  beyond  the  easy  reach 
of  our  minds  during  the  daily  round,  yet  it  is  within 
the  grasp  of  any  and  all  of  us,  once  interest  or  need 
has  made  it  plain. 

Metaphysicians  are  constantly  reminding  us  that 
however  imperfect  the  instruments  at  hand  may  be, 
yet  we  can  hardly  afford  to  discard  them,  while  there 
remains  any  likelihood  of  their  becoming  more  valu- 
able through  evolution  or  by  training.  As  an  instru- 
ment, introspection  has  undoubtedly  so  become. 
"The  empirical  conception  of  consciousness,"  says 
Villa,60  "is  that  of  the  consciousness  of  self.  It  is 
characterized  by  the  fact  that  its  content  is  very  re- 
stricted, though  vivid,  consisting  of  organic  sensations, 
together  with  a  particular  feeling  of  activity  owing 
to  which  we  'feel'  that  we  are  a  spontaneously  acting 


THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE  101 

personality.  ...  As  the  complexity  of  our  mental 
processes  increases,  the  consciousness  of  our  personality 
becomes  clearer  and  extends  itself  to  a  greater  num- 
ber of  phenomena." 

This  excellent  definition  is  of  interest  here  from  the 
fact  that  its  conclusions  could  have  been  reached  only 
through  means  provided  by  the  introspective  observer 
and  his  introspections.  It  gives  us  a  warrant  for  ex- 
amining in  detail  that  type  of  document  from  which 
science  has  heretofore  derived  much  of  the  mate- 
rial respecting  ourselves.  This  material  has  been 
cast  into  various  moulds ;  it  is  sometimes  in  the  shape 
of  fact,  sometimes  in  the  shape  of  theory.  The  pres- 
ence in  the  world  of  the  subjective  philosopher,  seems 
to  be  the  manifestation  of  an  introspective  tendency 
in  our  intellectual  life ;  and  has,  moreover,  an  impor- 
tance for  this  study,  from  its  close  connection  with  the 
religious  tendency.  Types  of  an  introspective  cast 
have  always  preserved  an  influence  over  the  world  of 
thought,  and  a  consideration  of  them  has  all  the  value 
of  a  concrete  example. 

In  dealing  with  those  individual  cases  of  intro- 
spective writing,  whose  influence  has  been  so  marked 
at  different  times,  upon  literature,  art,  and  philosophy, 
some  selection  must  needs  be  made,  if  only  to  avoid 
repetition.  Many  of  the  names  considered  are  more 
accurately  to  be  analyzed  on  another  account.  Au- 
gustin,  for  instance,  is  not  the  less  introspective  be- 
cause he  is  the  more  religious;  but  citations  from  his 
"Confessions"  are  used  so  constantly  in  the  body  of 
this  work,  that  it  were  superfluous  to  repeat  them. 
The  same  is  true  of  one  or  two  other  cases,  who  are 


102  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

to  be  dealt  with  more  fully  under  separate  heads. 
Our  endeavor  in  this  section  should  rather  be  to  clas- 
sify and  to  analyze,  for  purposes  of  comparison,  those 
self-students  whose  work,  while  exhibiting  equal  sin- 
cerity and  candour,  is  yet  not  directed  by  a  purely 
religious  impulse,  nor  strictly  affiliated  with  religious 
tenets.  Such  analysis  and  comparison  will  aid  us  to 
compute  the  sum  of  the  purely  religious  impulse  in 
the  introspective  document  and  the  amount  and  force 
of  the  purely  introspective  tendency  in  the  religious 
confession.  Some  confusion  has  attended  opinion  on 
these  points,  and  critics  therefore  have  come  to  discuss 
them  largely  according  to  personal  likes  and  dislikes. 
Thus  we  find  Caird  terming  that  important  element  of 
self-examination  in  religion  (without  which,  as  we 
have  seen,  the  religious  idea  could  hardly  have  devel- 
oped to  meet  our  latter-day  spiritual  uses)  as  "the 
great  plague  of  our  spiritual  life" ; 61  and  this  opinion 
is  shared  by  many  a  devout  theologian.  Study  there- 
fore of  introspection  as  introspection,  may  be  of  value 
in  clarifying  our  ideas. 

The  use  of  this  element  in  philosophy — when  it  does 
not  take  the  direct  and  formal  shape  of  autobiography 
— usually  takes  that  of  personal  explanation.  Much 
of  the  material  respecting  ourselves  which  has  been 
yielded  through  introspective  methods,  has  been  over- 
looked by  the  student  in  his  concentration  on  theory. 
He  reads  the  "Discours"  of  Descartes  for  its  central 
theme  rather  than  for  the  light  which  it  may  cast  on 
the  author's  mind  and  personality.  Therefore,  much 
significant  matter  lies  buried  under  the  drifting  sands 


THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE  103 

of  controversy,  or  is  lost  like  the  Neo-Platonists  be- 
neath some  abandoned  philosophic  structure. 

Present-day  English  science  shows  the  marked  effect 
of  the  introspective  tendency.  Guided  by  the  idea 62 
that  a  natural  history  of  one's  self  is  a  proper  comple- 
ment to  one's  system  of  thought,  the  group  of  writers 
clustering  around  the  crisis  of  1850  have  practically 
without  exception  left  definite  personal  records.  One 
type  of  mind,  such  as  G.  J.  Romanes,  expresses  similar 
ideas  in  an  intimate  " Diary/'63  while  yet  another, 
following  Descartes,64  will  incorporate  the  result  of 
his  introspection  into  the  body  of  his  thesis.  An 
Italian  critic 65  has  commented  with  penetration  on 
this  instinct  of  the  robust  intelligence  to  observe  itself 
and  study  the  secret  of  its  being.  This  tendency  is 
plainly  traceable  throughout  the  philosophical  sys- 
tems of  Locke,  Hume,  Berkeley,  Reid,  and  Hartley, 
where  it  forms  part  of  their  method  of  reaching  and 
impressing  other  minds.66 

It  is  not,  however,  in  England  that  the  subjective 
and  introspective  philosophy  is  to  be  found  in  its  typi- 
cal completeness.  German  metaphysicians  may  dif- 
fer widely  as  to  conclusions,  but  they  are  practically 
of  one  mind  as  to  their  method.  In  German  thought, 
the  subjective  tendency  seemed  to  become  even  more 
the  property  of  philosophical  doctrine  than  of  re- 
ligious doctrine,  since  the  number  of  these  documents 
outweighs  the  number  of  religious  confessions.  Most 
of  the  former  display  the  same  motives  which  under- 
lie the  latter,  such  as  dissatisfaction  with  self,  and  the 
effort  to  comprehend  the  basic  principles  of  conscious- 


104.  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

ness.  German  subjective  philosophy,  together  with 
all  modern  philosophy,  dates  from  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury and  the  work  of  Descartes.67  Certain  earlier 
names  shine  out  from  the  vast  epoch  of  the  Middle 
Ages,  but  they  do  not  dim  that  of  the  great  French- 
man. One  of  these — Al-Ghazzali,68  the  Arabian — has 
left  us  a  philosophical  introspective  record  which  de- 
serves to  be  compared  with  the  "Diseours  de  la 
Methode."  Neither  must  we  forget  the  sceptic  monk, 
Giordano  Bruno,69  who,  in  his  various  replies  made 
during  his  trial  before  the  Inquisition,  developed,  if 
somewhat  baldly,  the  theme  and  outline  of  an  intro- 
spective philosophy.  He  is  "entirely  ready  to  give 
an  account  of  myself, " 70  as  he  puts  it ;  and  does  de- 
scribe his  change  of  view;  how  "alone  retaining  the 
crucifix "  he  tried  to  turn  his  religion  into  a  philos- 
ophy. But  in  respect  of  our  present  investigation, 
the  ideas  of  Bruno  are  not  of  sufficient  weight  to 
detain  us  longer. 

The  similarity  which  has  been  noticed  between  the 
"Discours"  of  Descartes  and  the  "Confession"  of 
Al-Ghazzali,71  suggests  at  once  a  possible  debt  of  the 
Western  to  the  Eastern  mind.  Did  the  introspec- 
tive philosophy  take  its  rise  among  those  peoples, 
naturally  meditative,  naturally  prone  to  abstract  con- 
ceptions? The  question  is  not  one  to  be  lightly  an- 
swered. Unquestionably,  the  habit  of  certain  highly 
introspective  practices  had  been  developed  in  India, 
in  Persia,  and  in  Arabia,  for  centuries  past.  One 
might  expect,  therefore,  to  find  elaborate  systems 
of  subjective  philosophy  permeating  the  arid  and 
eager  Western  world  from  this  ancient  source. 


THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE  105 

The  reason  why  such  has  not  been  the  case  would 
seem  to  lie  in  the  predominance,  over  East  and 
West  alike,  of  the  huge  and  objective  intellect  of 
Aristotle,  whose  systems  dwarfed  for  centuries  any 
independent  thought,  while  they  absorbed,  in  exege- 
sis and  elucidation,  the  best  minds  of  Arabia  as  of 
Europe. 

The  work  of  Al-Ghazzali,  in  the  twelfth  century,  is 
an  indication  of  a  fresh  effort  at  mental  independ- 
ence. The  Aristotelians,  the  Platonists,  and  the  Neo- 
Platonists  seem  to  have  absorbed  the  world's  stock 
of  ideas,  as,  later,  the  Schoolmen  seem  to  have  ab- 
sorbed its  stock  of  mental  energy.  All  the  world 
over,  men  were  but  entombing  their  minds  in  those 
huge  and  futile  folios,  which  stand  to-day,  like  for- 
gotten sarcophagi,  the  objects  of  our  curious  and 
reverent  pity.  In  such  a  record  as  this  Arabian 
sage's,  may  be  read  the  attempt  to  come  out  from  un- 
der the  shadow  of  those  traditions  into  the  light  of 
reality  and  experience. 

"Tu  m'as  prie,  6  mon  frere  en  religion,  de  te  faire 
connaitre  les  secrets  et  le  but  des  sciences  reli- 
gieuses  .  .  ."  he  begins,  and  adds,  further,  that  he 
will  depict  his  own  sufferings  in  his  search  for  truth.72 
His  was  suffering,  indeed,  because  it  led  in  the  di- 
rection of  a  general  scepticism  and  negation,  a  state 
even  harder  to  bear  during  the  twelfth  century  than 
in  our  own.  "I  have  interrogated  the  beliefs  of  each 
sect,"  proceeds  the  Arabian,  "and  scrutinized  the 
mysteries  of  each  doctrine.  .  .  .  There  is  no  philoso- 
pher whose  system  I  have  not  fathomed,  nor  theologian 
the  intricacies  of  whose  doctrine  I  have  not  followed 


106  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

out.  .  .  .  The  thirst  for  knowledge  was  innate  in  me 
from  an  early  age;  it  was  like  a  second  nature  im- 
planted by  God.  .  .  .  Having  noticed  how  easily  the 
children  of  Christians  become  Christians,  and  the 
children  of  Moslem  embrace  Islam  ...  I  was  moved 
by  a  keen  desire  to  learn  what  was  this  innate  disposi- 
tion in  the  child,  the  nature  of  the  accidental  be- 
liefs imposed  on  him  by  the  authority  of  his  par- 
ents .  .  .  and  finally  the  unreasoned  conviction  which 
he  derives  from  their  instructions. ' ' 73 

The  idea  with  which  Al-Ghazzali  followed  this  sur- 
vey of  conditions  is  simply  to  ascertain  '  *  what  are  the 
bases  of  certitude."  Misled  by  false  appearance,  by 
the  illusions  attendant  on  observing  the  action  of  the 
senses,  he  finds  every  doctrine  around  him  in  every 
direction  untrustworthy,  and  so  falls  into  the  deepest 
doubt.  During  this  state,  which  lasted:  about  two 
months,  he  presents  to  our  view  all  the  familiar  phe- 
nomena of  so-called  religious  depression,  terminating 
in  a  complete  nervous  prostration  with  aphasia. 
"But  God,"  he  fervently  exclaims,  "at  last  deigned  to 
heal  me  of  this  mental  malady;  my  mind  recovered 
sanity  and  equilibrium."74  And,  turning  his  ener- 
gies toward  a  careful  introspection,  Al-Ghazzali  found 
that  it  led  him  directly  toward  the  mysticism  of  the 
Sufis. 

It  will  not  be  forgotten  that  the  effect  of  all  ele- 
mentary and  untrained  introspection,  whether  in  reli- 
gion or  philosophy,  is  inevitably  in  the  direction  of 
mysticism,  and  nothing  so  clearly  shows  that  four 
hundred  years  have  passed  between  Al-Ghazzali  and 
Descartes  as  the  comparison  of  their  conclusions  in 


THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE  107 

this  regard.  Without  insisting  too  closely  thereon, 
it  will  be  admitted  that  the  aim  of  both  philosophers 
was  identical  in  their  search  for  Truth.75  Each  be- 
gins his  work  with  a  personal  statement  of  his  fitness 
for  this  search,  his  position  at  the  present  stage,  and 
the  further  aims  of  his  mind.  That  there  existed  a 
strong  similarity  in  their  mental  situations,  a  glance 
will  show.  "J'ai  ete  nourri  aux  lettres  des  mon  en- 
fance,"  writes  Descartes.  ".  .  .  Mais  sitot  que  j'eus 
acheve  tout  ce  cours  d 'etudes  .  .  .  je  me  trouvais 
embarrasse  de  taut  de  doutes  et  erreurs,  qu'il  me 
semblait  n 'avoir  fait  aucun  profit."76  And  again, 
on  the  study  of  philosophy,  he  observes  that  "con- 
siderant  combien  il  peut  y  avoir  de  diverses  opinions 
touchant  une  meme  matiere,  qui  soient  soutenues  par 
des  gens  doctes,  sans  qu'il  en  puisse  avoir  jamais  plus 
d  'un  seul  qui  soit  vraie,  je  reputais  presque  pour  faux 
tout  ce  qui  n'etait  que  vraisemblable."  77 

Here  stand  these  two  young  men,  each  in  his  early 
twenties,  side  by  side  on  the  same  path  of  enquiry. 
Here  their  ways  part,  led  by  the  vital  and  significant 
influences  developed  by  four  hundred  intervening 
years.  The  Oriental  mind,  interrogating  each  dogma 
in  turn  and  finding  all  false,  bends  aside  in  despair  to 
take  refuge  in  that  perpetual  mystery  which  opens  be- 
fore the  inward-looking  eye.  "To  believe  in  the 
Prophet  is  to  admit  that  there  is  above  intelligence 
a  sphere  in  which  are  revealed  to  the  inner  vision 
truths  beyond  the  grasp  of  intelligence, ' ' 78  is  the 
practical  conclusion  of  the  Arabian. 

The  Occidental  mind,  interrogating  each  dogma  in 


108  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

turn  and  finding  all  false,  turns  aside  in  hope,  and 
bends  all  its  energies  into  the  search  for  method.  ™ 
The  man  resolves  to  study  himself  and  to  conduct  his 
own  reason,  for  the  purpose  of  evolving  a  method 
which  will  lead  him  in  the  direction  of  the  truth. 
Let  us  abandon,  he  remarks,  these  problems  which 
appear  so  distant  and  insoluble,  and  devote  our 
energy  to  the  best  means  of  reaching  them  by  regular 
steps.  "Meme  je  ne  voulus  point  commencer  a  re- 
jeter  tout-a-fait  aucune  des  opinions  qui  s'etaient 
pu  glisser  autrefois  en  ma  connaissance, "  he  writes, 
' '  [mais]  chercher  la  vraie  methode  pour  parvenir  a  la 
connaissance  de  toutes  les  choses  dont  mon  esprit 
seroit  capable."80  Descartes  is  thus  separated  from 
Al-Ghazzali  by  his  conception  of  and  his  insistence  on 
the  importance  of  method. 

It  will  be  asked  in  what  manner  was  the  soil  dur- 
ing these  four  hundred  years  prepared  for  the 
plough  of  such  a  mind  as  Descartes,  and  an  answer 
must  be,  though  all  too  briefly,  suggested.  The  limi- 
tations imposed  upon  the  present  essay  make  it  im- 
possible to  treat  at  any  length  of  those  Renaissance  dis- 
cussions between  the  Aristotelians  and  the  Platonists 
on  such  ultimate  questions  as  the  nature  and  immor- 
tality of  the  soul,81  by  and  through  which  our  modern 
conceptions  have  been  slowly  evolved.  Those  con- 
troversies added  to  the  world's  stock  of  definitions  at 
the  same  time  that  their  use  made  flexible  various 
types  and  forms  of  philosophy  and  metaphysics,  in- 
cluding the  introspective.  The  scientific  self-study 
and  autobiography  also  made  its  appearance  to  add  to 
the  world's  stock  of  ideas.  By  the  lives  of  Cellini 


THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE  109 

and  Cardan,  the  essays  of  Montaigne,  and  other  simi- 
lar records,  psychological  introspection  was  developed 
from  a  rudimentary  condition  to  a  state  of  efficiency 
which  made  it  a  valuable  tool  in  the  hand  of  the 
science  of  that  epoch.  No  longer  elementary  in  char- 
acter, it  ceased,  as  we  see  in  the  case  of  Descartes,  to 
lead  in  the  direction  of  mysticism  and  transcendental- 
ism. 

At  the  same  time  that  the  psychologist,  in  the  per- 
son of  Cardan,  was  endeavoring  by  close  self -analysis 
to  comprehend  something  of  his  own  obscure  problems, 
the  idea  of  the  value  of  such  self-knowledge  was 
slowly  growing  in  the  world's  mind.  The  power  and 
charm  of  Augustin,  exerted  during  the  early  Middle 
Ages,82  heightened  this  estimate  of  self-knowledge, 
while  causing  it  to  take  its  position  as  a  department  of 
science.  Descartes,  who,  as  we  have  read,  had  pur- 
sued all  the  philosophical  doctrines  prevalent  during 
his  youth,  could  not  have  failed  to  draw,  from  this 
development  of  self-knowledge,  one  of  his  greatest  ele- 
ments of  strength.  His  Augustin  he  must  have  read ; 
something  he  must  have  known  of  Nicholas  Cusanus, 
and  of  Giordano  Bruno.83  Such  earlier  influences  as 
the  treatises  of  the  Neo- Aristotelian,  Pomponazzi,84  for 
example,  ' '  the  last  of  the  Schoolmen, "  as  he  has  been 
called,  show  the  rationalistic  tendencies  at  work  upon 
men's  minds,  which  cannot,  either,  wholly  have  es- 
caped Descartes.  Pomponazzi85  questioned  the  doc- 
trine of  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  denied  that  there 
are  apparitions  of  the  dead;  emphasized  the  study 
of  the  history  of  religions,  and  concerned  himself 
chiefly  with  the  degree  of  the  soul's  relation  to  reason 


110  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

or  intelligence.86  Such  a  sceptical  and  subjective 
treatment  of  great  problems  had  a  widespread  effect 
upon  men's  attitude  toward  them,  and  prepared  the 
way  for  a  method  based  on  pure  introspection. 

These  pages  are  not  the  place  for  a  complete  an- 
alysis of  the  Cartesian  philosophy  in  all  its  far-reach- 
ing effects,  nor  would  such  analysis  be  of  any  real 
service  to  the  present  investigation.  It  were  well, 
however,  to  point  out  that  the  introspectiveness  of 
Descartes  does  not  limit  itself  to  the  opening  pages  of 
description  and  examination.87  On  the  contrary,  it 
is  interwoven  with  his  thoughts  both  in  the  "Dis- 
cours"  and  in  the  "  Meditations. "  It  is  condensed 
and  expressed  in  that  phrase,  "Je  pense,  done  je 
suis,"88  by  which  his  philosophy  is  identified;  it  is 
employed  on  every  page  by  way  of  definition,  and  in 
one  of  his  responses,89  he  avers  that  it  is  not  possi- 
ble for  him  to  separate  his  thought  from  himself. 
The  one  thing  of  which  he  is  entirely  conscious,  as 
Augustin  was,  is  himself:  and  thus,  both  in  manner 
and  in  matter,  he  remains  the  distinguished  example 
of  the  philosophical  introspective  type. 

It  is  natural  that  such  intense  introspection  as  re- 
sides in  the  manner  of  Descartes  should  be  followed 
by  a  reaction,  and  this  reaction  came  in  Spinoza  and 
in  Leibnitz.  Nevertheless,  so  deep  and  far-reaching 
was  the  Cartesian  philosophy,  that  it  ushered  in  what 
has  been  called  '  '  The  Age  of  Enlightenment, ' ' 90  when 
man  became  interested  above  all  things  in  himself, 
and  in  the  workings  of  his  own  mind.  Reaction, 
therefore,  could  not  carry  men  very  far  from  an  atti- 
tude which  still  maintained  for  them  its  freshness  and 


THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE  ill 

force.  Thus  the  eighteenth  century  became  an  age 
of  personal  affirmation  and  explanation,  when  the  dis- 
covery made  by  philosophy  and  expressed  in  literature 
by  Rousseau  was  freshly  for  each  man:  "Si  je  ne 
vaux  pas  mieux,  au  moins  je  suis  autre."  91 

Not  in  his  two  great  "Critiques"92  is  the  intro- 
spective tendency  of  Kant  to  be  noted;  but  rather  in 
his  "Prolegomena  of  a  Future  Metaphysic"  wherein 
he  avows  that  "Hume  interrupted  my  dogmatic  slum- 
ber. ' ' 9S  Much  of  his  personal  introspection  is  frag- 
mentary and  incomplete,  but  the  tendency  is  so 
marked  as  to  cause  him  to  compare  himself  to  Rous- 
seau.84 

Immediately  following  Kant,  German  philosophy 
entered  upon  its  great  subjective  period,  when,  aided 
by  the  influence  of  Locke  and  certain  others  of  the 
English  school,  introspection  became  generally  diffused 
throughout  the  whole  realm  of  metaphysics.  Its  re- 
sults, in  a  sense,  are  assumed,  and  the  separate  de- 
velopment of  that  branch  of  science  which  we  call 
psychology,  is  not  the  least  of  them.95  Prom  this 
time,  the  psychologists  became  a  separate  group  of  in- 
vestigators, and  the  value  of  introspection  in  psy- 
chology fluctuates,  as  we  have  seen,  according  to  the 
opinions  generally  prevailing  amongst  the  different 
groups. 

Philosophically  speaking,  the  introspective  tendency 
reached  its  height  in  Fichte,  who,  in  his  "Science  of 
Knowledge,"  bases  his  entire  doctrine  on  subjective 
idealism.  "If  I  abstract  myself  from  thought,"  he 
writes,  "and  look  simply  upon  myself,  then  I  myself 
become  the  object  of  a  particular  representation.  'V96 


112  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

Thus  making  himself  his  own  object,  Fichte  takes 
what  he  considers  to  be  the  first  important  step. 
"The  question  has  been  asked, "  he  proceeds,  "what 
was  I  before  I  became  self-conscious?  The  answer 
is,  I  was  not  at  all,  for  I  was  not  I.  The  Ego  is,  only 
in  so  far  as  it  is  conscious  of  itself. ' ' 87  Here  is  in- 
trospective doctrine  of  the  type  of  Augustin  carried  to 
a  higher  degree  of  development.  In  the  "Destina- 
tion of  Man,"  Fichte  still  further  elaborates  the  re- 
sults, direct  and  indirect,  of  his  systematic  looking- 
inward.  "There  was  a  time,  so  others  tell  me  ... 
in  which  I  was  not,  and  a  moment  in  which  I  began 
to  be.  I  then  only  existed  for  others,  not  yet  for 
myself.  Since  then,  myself,  my  conscious  being,  has 
gradually  developed  itself,  and  I  have  discovered  in 
myself  certain  faculties,  capacities  .  .  .  and  natural 
desires."  98  "My  existence  must  necessarily  be  aware 
of  itself — for  therefore  do  I  call  it  mine.  .  .  .  By 
the  limitations  of  my  own  being  I  perceive  other 
existences  which  are  not  me.  .  .  .  The  foundation  of 
my  belief  in  the  existence  of  an  external  world  lies 
in  myself  and  not  in  it  ...  but  in  the  limitations  of 
my  own  being.  In  this  manner  I  obtain  the  idea  of 
other  thinking  beings  like  myself. ' '  " 

Fichte  thus  finds  in  self -examination  the  beginning 
of  all  philosophy,  and  in  his  work  it  touches  the 
highest  fruitfulness.  Generalized  later  in  the  work 
of  Schelling,100  it  became  much  less  significant.  Still 
later,  Schopenhauer101  displays  the  introspective 
tendency  in  scattered,  incoherent  paragraphs,  ca- 
pricious, and  lacking  in  constructive  power. 

Nietzsche,102  in  our  own  day,  made  an  attempt  to 


THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE  113 

return  to  scientific  introspection;  but  the  mental 
conditions  were  untoward,  and  his  efforts  ended  in 
a  mere  insane  shouting  of  "I  am  this"  and  "I  am 
that." 

Sporadic  minor  examples — such  as  that  Novalis 
[Friedrich  von  Hardenberg]  to  whom  Carlyle  con- 
secrates an  essay — exist  here  and  there  in  Germany 
and  in  Scandinavia ; 103  but  the  influence  of  Comte, 
which,  as  we  remember,  was  antagonistic,  caused  a 
second  reaction  from  introspective  methods  in  psy- 
chology. That  this  reaction  has  reached  its  limits 
there  are  several  indications  at  present,  among  which 
is  the  vogue  attendant  on  the  metaphysics  of  Henri 
Bergson. 

In  literature  as  in  philosophy,  the  forces  underly- 
ing the  Renaissance  gave  an  impetus  to  all  forms  of 
expression,  subjective  as  well  as  objective.  The 
Italians  first  indicate  this  movement ;  among  them  are 
to  be  found  the  earliest  examples  of  what  later  was  to 
become  a  familiar  literary  type.  Such  Florentine 
domestic  chronicles  as  that  of  Lapo  da  Castiglionchio, 
for  instance  (to  name  one  of  many  during  the  twelfth 
and  thirteenth  centuries),  display  qualities  speedily 
to  be  developed  and  popularized  into  regular  auto- 
biography. Italy  resembled  a  youth  but  half-awak- 
ened, who  looked  eagerly  around  him  upon  a  new 
and  vigorous  world.  A  passionate  interest  in  general 
observation  and  description  embraced  the  inner  as 
well  as  the  outer  phenomena  of  life.  Again  men 
turned  back  to  the  great  introspective  leaders  of 
Christian  doctrine,  striving  through  their  eyes  to 
look  higher  and  lower  and  deeper  than  ever  before. 


114  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

This  newly  aroused  desire  for  knowledge  led  men  far, 
and  in  directions  as  yet  undreamt-of. 

"In  the  Middle  Ages,"  writes  one  historian,  "both 
aspects  of  consciousness — that  which  faces  the  world 
and  that  which  looks  toward  man's  own  inner  life, 
lay  dreaming,  or  but  half -awake,  under  a  veil  which 
shrouded  them.  ...  In  Italy  first  this  veil  was 
lifted  .  .  .  the  things  of  this  world  generally  began 
to  be  treated  objectively;  but  at  the  same  time  the 
subjective  asserted  its  rights ;  man  becomes  a  spiritual 
individuality  and  knows  that  he  is  such. ' ' 104 

These  pages  have  already  noticed  how  this  spiritual 
individuality  began  to  be  evolved;  how  its  growing 
introspective  tendency  led  it  to  mysticism;  and  how, 
in  turn,  this  mysticism  heightened  the  introspection. 
The  St.  Victors  show  in  a  striking  manner  the  inter- 
relation of  these  two  influences  on  the  religious  mind, 
together  with  an  intellectual  attempt  to  formalize 
their  results  into  a  system.  On  the  side  purely  sec- 
ular and  profane,  the  introspective  type  was  neces- 
sarily slower  in  its  development,  nor  can  it  be  de- 
tached from  the  study  of  religion  until  a  period  later 
in  the  history  of  literature. 

Dante  has  frequently  been  cited  in  this  connection, 
but  Dante,  notwithstanding  certain  passages  in  the 
"Convito,"  must  have  been  always  an  outward-look- 
ing, rather  than  an  inward-looking,  mind.  The  letter 
to  Can  Grande,  for  instance,  is  written  on  a  personal 
subject,  one  near  to  religious  experience,  yet  its  tone 
remains  impersonal  and  even  abstract.105  The  "Vita 
Nuova"106  is  throughout  handled  in  a  manner  curi- 
ously outward, — it  is  a  setting  for  poetic  jewels,  a  dec- 


THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE  115 

orative  framework  for  sonnet  or  ballata,  rather  than  a 
spiritual  self -study.  The  flame-color  of  the  garment  of 
Beatrice,  the  winged  Love  in  a  blaze  of  fire, — these 
are  the  images  which  dominated  the  imagination  of 
its  writer.  True,  Dante  tells  how  his  passion  affected 
his  health,  and  how  his  grief  undermined  it,  but  he  is 
nowhere  definitely  personal ;  he  writes  poetically,  and 
he  withholds  the  key  to  his  conduct  so  effectually,  that 
the  whole  tone  has  remained  artificial. 

The  mind  of  Dante  was  not  made  of  modern  stuff. 
However  different  his  attitude  from  your  true  intro- 
spective, he  yet  belongs  to  the  same  spiritual  family 
as  that  Francis  who  preached  to  the  birds,  as  that 
Ubertino  da  Casale,  whose  meditations  made 
him  a  member  of  the  Holy  Family,  sitting  at  table 
with  them.  Even  in  the  personal  portions  of  the 
"Commedia,"  Dante's  direct,  concrete  imagination 
displays  the  power  of  a  mind  turned  outward.  Not 
upon  himself,  but  upon  the  world  without,  his  gaze 
is  fixed.  His  heaven  and  hell  are  distinct  with  the 
imagery  of  real  things;  they  have  the  classes  and 
circles  and  divisions  of  the  visible  universe;  the 
empyrean  itself  shows  a  decorative  plan.  Their  vivid- 
ness is  due  to  this;  it  is  the  vividness  of  the  Italian 
painters;  while  both  belong  to  the  unself -conscious 
and  objective  past.  There  are  many  to  whom  the 
sombre  figure  of  the  Florentine,  in  its  fierce  gloom 
and  faith,  serves  to  personify  the  Middle  Ages.  The 
chasm  that  separates  Dante  from  Petrarch  is  wider 
than  the  width  of  years;  it  is  the  gulf  between  the 
ancient  and  the  modern  world.  Boccaccio  accused 
Petrarch  of  indifference  toward  the  elder  poet,  and 


116  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

although  Petrarch,  defends  himself  with  skill  in  a 
long  letter,  yet  the  very  terms  of  this  defence  show 
plainly  that  Dante's  attitude  of  mind  is  as  far  from 
him  as  it  is  from  ourselves.  It  has  been  said  of 
Petrarch  that  he  was  not  content  to  live  unquestion- 
ingly,  but  must  be  constantly  preoccupied  with  his  own 
aims  and  motives.107  His  passion  for  the  works  of 
Augustin,  and  especially  for  the  "Confessions," 
roused  in  him  a  desire  for  self-understanding  which 
he  enriched  by  a  matured  power  of  psychological 
analysis. 

We  have  seen  him  already  upon  Mont  Yentoux, 
smitten  with  wonder,  not  only  at  the  wide  sunny 
stretch  of  country,  but  also  at  the  miracle  of  his  be- 
holding self;  and  none  of  the  thoughts  and  emotions 
roused  in  him  by  the  sight  are  alien  to  our  own  ideas. 
He  stands  ever  as  an  immortal  Youth  upon  a  mountain- 
top,  to  whom  life  opens  a  wider  and  wider  prospect, 
while  the  centuries,  rolling  by,  reveal  shining  peaks 
perpetually  to  be  climbed. 

The  introspective  tone  of  Petrarch  has  throughout 
a  literary  quality.  At  no  time  does  he  show  any  an- 
ticipation of  scientific  self-study,  of  which  Cardan, 
only  two  hundred  years  later,  was  to  give  so  remark- 
able an  example.  The  tone  of  the  poet's  "Epistle  to 
Posterity, ' ' 108  is  ceremonious  and  condescending,  the 
facts  are  furnished  to  an  admiring  public  by  a  cele- 
brated personage.  "As  to  my  disposition,  I  was  not 
naturally  perverse  nor  wanting  in  modesty, ' '  he  says, 
noting  also,  "my  youth  was  gone  before  I  realized 
it  ...  but  riper  age  brought  me  to  my  senses. ' '  He 
tells  of  his  quickness,  comeliness,  and  activity ;  how  his 


THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE  117 

health  endured  until  old  age  brought ' '  the  usual  train 
of  discomforts";  and  of  his  deep  conviction  that  only 
"by  a  tardy  consciousness  of  our  sins  we  shall  learn 
to  know  ourselves."  One  feels  that  this  man  wished 
posterity  to  remember  the  esteem  in  which  he  was  held 
by  the  great  of  his  own  day ;  and  how,  without  regret, 
he  had  relinquished  that  popularity. 

Less  formal  are  his  letters,  yet  they,  too,  echo  this 
successful  assurance.  So  highly  were  they  valued  by 
the  writer,  that  he  spent  six  years  editing  them  for 
publication,  with  the  result  that,  however  interesting, 
they  lack  spontaneity.109  Not  only  are  they  intro- 
spective, they  are  often  self-conscious.  When  he 
writes  of,  "my  inexorable  passion  for  work/'  or  com- 
ments, "my  mind  is  as  hard  as  a  rock,"  110  the  tone  is 
that  of  the  literary  man,  satisfying  the  curiosity  of 
an  eager  and  respectful  public. 

The  work  which  particularly  concerns  us  here,  is 
contained  in  a  group  of  three  dialogues  to  which  he 
gave  the  title,  "De  Contemptu  Mundi,"  while  allud- 
ing to  them  also  as  his  secret — "Secretum  Suum."  1U 
Both  from  a  religious  and  an  introspective  aspect  they 
have  much  importance  for  the  present  enquiry.  They 
form  indeed  a  confession,  wherein  the  figure  of  Augus- 
tin  plays  the  part  of  spiritual  director.  Composed  in 
Petrarch's  thirty-eighth  year,  they  picture  a  man 
in  conflict  with  his  youthful  errors  and  passions.  In 
these  dialogues,  the  poet,  the  lover,  the  courtier,  give 
place  to  the  student  whose  quenchless  love  of  letters 
is  the  only  mundane  interest  which  a  newly  aroused 
religious  feeling  will  allow  him  to  indulge. 

"May  God  lead  me,"  is  his  cry,  "safe  and  sound 


118  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

out  of  so  many  crooked  ways ;  that  I  may  follow  the 
Voice  that  calls  me;  that  I  may  raise  up  no  cloud  of 
dust  before  my  eyes;  and,  with  my  mind  calmed 
and  at  peace,  I  may  hear  the  world  grow  still  and 
silent,  and  the  winds  of  adversity  die  away ! " 112 

This,  surely,  is  another  man  from  him  who  told 
us  with  complacency  that  his  intimacy  was  desired 
by  noble  persons !  And,  moreover,  it  is  in  these  very 
dialogues  that  we  see  the  change  accomplished.  Truth 
herself,  a  dazzling  angel,  led  Augustin  to  the  per- 
plexed poet,  saying  that  his  sacred  voice  would  surely 
bring  peace  to  one  so  tossed,  so  troubled.  And 
Petrarch  warns  us  that  this  little  book  is  not  to  be 
regarded  critically,  as  are  his  other  compositions,  for  it 
is  written  chiefly  that  he  himself  may  renew,  as  often 
as  need  be,  the  salutary  effects  of  the  interview.  The 
attack  on  himself  is  opened  by  an  arraignment  (placed 
in  Augustin 's  mouth)  of  his  own  worldliness  and 
vanity.  To  this  accusation  he  is  depicted  as  listening 
in  all  humility.113  By  comparison  with  the  younger 
Augustin  drawn  in  the  ' '  Confessions, ' '  his  repentance 
seems  less  deep,  his  tears  are  less  bitter,  his  clinging 
is  closer  to  the  world.  Yet  he  avows:  "I  am  made 
partaker  of  your  conflict  ...  I  seem  to  be  hearing  the 
story  of  myself  .  .  .  not  of  another's  wandering,  but 
my  own.  .  .  ,"114 

His  defence  of  himself  against  the  saint's  accusa- 
tion appears  of  more  strength  to  us  to-day  than  it 
could  to  himself ;  it  prevails  far  more  than  he  realized 
against  the  Augustinian  asceticism.  To  our  ideas, 
the  great,  busy,  material  world,  and  men's  achieve- 
ments therein,  possess  a  hold  over  the  moral  sense 


THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE  119 

which  they  had  not  in  the  fourteenth  century.  In 
words  spoken  by  Augustin,  Petrarch  draws  an  accu- 
rate picture  of  the  ascetic  system  of  the  Middle  Ages, 
as  it  appears  to  modern  eyes.  All  unwittingly,  he 
places  the  ethics  of  the  past  in  antagonism  to  the 
ethics  of  the  present.  He  argues  for  the  life  of 
moderation,  reason,  and  energy,  as  against  the  life 
of  fanaticism,  superstition,  and  quiescence.  He 
pleads  for  the  mental  images  of  life  and  light;  while 
his  Augustin,  in  all  sternness,  dwells  on  the  power  of 
those  images  of  darkness  and  of  death.  If  Petrarch 
makes  the  saint  carry  the  day  in  this  discussion,  it  is 
because  Augustin,  after  all,  expressed  both  the  reli- 
gious and  the  moral  ideals  of  the  time.  "I  will  not 
deny,"  Petrarch  cries,  "that  you  have  terrified  me 
greatly  by  putting  so  huge  a  mass  of  suffering  before 
my  eyes.  But  may  God  give  me  such  .plenteous 
mercy  that  I  may  steep  my  thoughts  in  meditations 
like  these!"115 

Dialogue  second  analyzes  Petrarch's  love  of  wealth 
and  fame;  while  again  the  part  he  bears  against 
Augustin  represents  the  modern  ideal.  Doctrines  of 
industry,  activity,  and  study,  are  advanced  against 
the  saint's  plea  for  passive  renunciation.  His  figure 
of  Augustin  here  is  not  wholly  consistent;  for,  when 
he  describes  himself  as  suffering  from  a  causeless  and 
poetic  melancholy,  in  which  he  morbidly  took  a  false 
delight,116  he  suddenly  changes  the  exhortations  of 
the  saint,  from  advising  a  constant  meditation  on 
the  grave,  to  the  urging  of  courageous  cheerfulness. 
This  very  inconsistency  has  a  lifelike  quality ;  though 
it  is  true  that  Petrarch's  Augustin  seems  harsher  than 


120  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

the  Augustin  we  love.  The  progress  of  the  composi- 
tion as  a  whole  marks  a  growing  absorption  in  its 
self -analysis,  which  tends  to  weaken  the  part  borne 
therein  by  the  saint.  At  the  end,  Petrarch  even  al- 
lows himself  the  last  word,  for,  although  he  is  buffeted 
by  the  wind  of  argument,  and  stung  by  the  arrows 
of  Scripture,  yet  he  stoutly  declares  that  he  can  never 
relinquish  his  love  of  study. 

In  this  little  work,  introspection  takes  a  large  stride, 
and  enters  into  possession  of  literature.  It  shows — 
as  no  other  book  could  show — how  the  grasp  of  Augus- 
tin was  on  the  very  fibre  of  men's  hearts  and  minds; 
how,  like  religion  and  like  philosophy,  literary  ideas 
lay  helpless  in  that  grasp  for  centuries.  But  then 
Augustin  is  identified  with  the  greater  moments  of 
life;  he  voiced  its  crucial  struggles.  Men  like 
Petrarch  turned  his  pages  with  tears  and  prayer; 
they  could  no  more  have  read  them  from  the 
coldly  literary  point  of  view  than  they  could  have 
read  their  Bibles.  Moreover,  the  style  of  Augustin 's 
"Confessions"  throughout  is  wonderfully  delicate  and 
colored,  and  the  whole  of  that  marvellous  Tenth  Book 
is  written  as  though  it  were  to  be  sung  to  the  music 
of  a  harp. 

Life  is  seldom,  after  all,  in  the  lyric  mood;  and  as 
self -observation  grew  more  frequent,  the  "looking- 
within"  extended  itself  to  the  mere  daily  round  of 
common  thoughts  and  feelings.  The  Renaissance  re- 
vived the  sceptical  spirit,  it  became  the  spectator,  half- 
cynical,  half-amused,  of  itself.  Man  was  interested 
in  man,  going  to  and  fro  about  his  ordinary  business. 
Until  the  fifteenth  century,  the  disposition  to  look  in- 


THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE  121 

ward  had  been  connected  with  religious  discipline; 
and  was  associated  with  the  practice  of  auricular  con- 
fession, at  that  time  firmly  established  in  the  Church. 
Once  the  introspective  tendency  transferred  itself  to 
the  field  of  secular  writing,  it  developed  with  such 
rapidity  that  by  the  sixteenth  century  there  existed 
classic  self -studies 117  with  no  religious  feeling  what- 
ever as  their  basis.118  The  rise  of  this  tendency  dur- 
ing the  Renaissance  may  be  noted  in  such  writings  as 
those  of  Eneas  Sylvius  Piccolomini,  who  afterward 
became  Pope  Pius  II.  He  left  much  self-study  in  his 
"Commentary,"  in  his  letters,  and  in  a  "Retracta- 
tion," imitating  Augustin.  His  temperament  was 
primarily  literary,  cool,  and  sceptical,  the  latter  to 
such  an  extent,  indeed,  that  even  when  he  was  Pope, 
he  observed  that  "a  miracle  should  always  be  re- 
garded with  mistrust."119  In  the  personal  parts  of 
his  "Commentary,"  as  in  his  letters,  he  is  extremely 
candid;  especially  concerning  that  period  in  his  life, 
when,  although  neither  a  pious  nor  a  fervent  person, 
he  desired  to  abandon  his  youthful  errors.  This 
change  is  expressed  in  words  of  sincere  doubt  and 
contrition.  "I  cannot  trust  myself,"  he  sorrowfully 
writes,  "to  take  a  vow  of  continence."  And  again: 
"I  have  been  a  great  wanderer  from  what  is  right, 
but  I  know  it,  and  I  hope  the  knowledge  has  not  come 
too  late."120 

Papal  responsibilities  educated  Eneas  Sylvius  into 
deeper  seriousness  than  was  his  by  nature.  His  '  *  Re- 
tractation" testifies  to  a  sense  of  his  own  worldliness; 
and  he  asks  that  posterity  remember  him  as  Pius, 
rather  than  as  Eneas.  Throughout,  he  shows  the  crit- 


122  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

ical  habit  of  mind;  and  forms  a  significant  link  be- 
tween the  ardent  nature  of  such  as  Petrarch  and  that 
later  introspective  type,  that  smiling  spectator  of 
self, — -Montaigne. 

After  the  Renaissance,  a  nature  like  Montaigne's 
seems  an  embodied  reaction.  So  much  piety,  so  much 
fervor,  so  much  intensity,  so  much  art  and  color,  and 
passion  and  energy  and  heat, — and  then,  Montaigne. 
He  meets  the  mood  of  satiety  for  the  first  time  in 
literature ;  in  him  we  see  that  the  world  has  put  forth 
too  much  force  and  is  tired;  it  is  beginning  to  ask 
"Cui  bono?" — and  to  be  amused  by  its  own  activ- 
ity. This  is  his  charm,  his  friendliness  for  us  when 
we  are  weary  of  ardor.  With  pipe  and  by  the  chim- 
ney-corner, a  man  longs  most  for  the  society  of  him 
called  by  Sainte-Beuve  "I'Homine  sans  Grace,"121 
while  the  self-study  of  this  man  without  grace,  has 
evoked  much  similar  study  from  other  graceless  men. 
"C'est  moy  que  je  peinds,"  he  writes,  ".  .  .  tout 
entier  et  tout  nu  .  .  .  .  Ainsi,  lecteur,  je  suis  moy- 
meme  la  matiere  de  mon  livre." 

It  has  been  suggested  that  Montaigne's  sceptical 
attitude  was  due  to  his  sympathy  with  the  Pyrrhonis- 
tic  philosophy.122  Beading  him  to-day,  it  appears 
rather  as  an  affair  of  temperament  than  of  intellect, 
as  an  instinctive  scepticism  of  the  literary  man,  rather 
than  as  the  reasoned  scepticism  of  the  doctrinaire. 
His  avowals  of  orthodoxy  are  joined  to  the  tran- 
quillity of  a  fundamental  materialism.  He  seems  to 
be  asking,  with  Emerson,  "So  hot,  my  little  sir?" 
His  self -observation  partakes  of  this  character;  it  is 


THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE  123 

formless  and  scattered,  though  Cardan  himself  could 
hardly  be  more  minute.  From  literature  he  sought 
amusement,  as  well  as  from  that  science  "qui  traite 
de  la  connaissance  de  moy-meme."  Like  the  Italian 
physician,  he  gives  his  likes  and  dislikes,  his  habits, 
his  food  and  drink ;  but  his  reason  for  so  doing  differs 
vastly.  To  Cardan,  there  seemed  about  his  own  per- 
sonality a  something  vital  and  significant  which  it 
behooved  other  men  to  know,  while  Montaigne  appears 
to  regard  himself  largely  as  a  means  of  pleasant  com- 
munication with  other  men  of  the  same  kind.  He 
offers  himself  to  the  reader  in  a  friendly  fashion ;  the 
result  of  his  introspection  brings  no  surprise  nor 
shock,  and  his  final  estimate  is,  "pour  moy  doncques, 
j'aime  la  vie  et  la  cultive." 

The  absence  of  all  serious  fervor,  of  "la  Grace,"  in 
Montaigne,  strikes  us  sympathetically  in  our  worldly 
moments;  but  it  has  had  one  ill  effect.  Using  self- 
study,  while  yet,  as  it  were,  disregarding  it,  Montaigne 
could  not  fail  to  be  imitated  by  the  incoherent  mind. 
There  may  be  little  excuse  for  egotism  in  any  form, 
but  there  is  none  whatever  for  such  loose  and  vague 
methods  of  self-observation.  Thus,  any  mind  which 
is  naturally  inclined  to  wander  from  the  subject, 
hastens  to  take  refuge  in  an  imitation  of  the  ' '  Essais. ' ' 
Contemporary  literature  acknowledges  Montaigne  as 
a  type  of  introspection,  but  the  direct  effect  of  his 
influence  is  to  deprive  us  of  a  great  deal  of  valuable 
personal  matter. 

Among  the  typical  records  of  the  seventeenth  cen- 
tury, the  "Keligio  Medici  "123  must  not  be  forgotten, 


124  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

for  the  quaint  elevation  of  its  style  added  much  weight 
to  the  force  of  its  opinions.  It  is  meditative,  but  not 
detailed,  self -study,  with  something  of  Montaigne's 
influence  showing  in  the  crabbed  phrases.  The  author 
tells  us  that  he  read  Cardan,  and  he  shows  the  same 
feeling  for  the  vastness  of  this  great  universe  of  which 
one  reads  in  the  life  of  the  Italian  physician.  "  Every 
man  is  a  Microcosm  and  carries  the  whole  "World  about 
with  him, ' '  he  writes ;  also  telling  us,  ' '  the  world  that 
I  regard  is  myself."  Browne  is  as  sceptical  as  Mon- 
taigne, but  with  this  difference :  he  hesitates  to  believe 
because  the  question  of  religion  interests  him  so  much, 
rather  than  because  it  interests  him  so  little.  His 
looking-within  is  a  looking  upon  still  greater  miracles. 
Browne's  open  mind  and  intellectual  curiosity,  his 
lack  of  prejudice  and  of  superstition,  place  him  among 
the  forerunners  of  that  later  type  of  philosopher 
whose  high  seriousness  constitutes,  in  itself,  a  reli- 
gion. 

The  documents  of  an  introspective  kind  are  few 
during  this  period,  and  they  are  not  to  be  found 
where  one  would  expect  to  find  them.  For  instance, 
the  ponderous  "  Diary "  of  the  scholar,  Isaac  Casau- 
bon,  is  detailed  but  non-introspective,  concerning  it- 
self little  with  the  inner  life  of  the  writer.  Our 
modern  standards  for  this  sort  of  record,  both  as  to 
candour  and  fulness  go  back  no  further  than  to 
Rousseau.124  His  type  of  introspection  is  the  type 
which  has  influenced  the  world  to-day.  His  emotional 
power,  his  feeling  for  style  and  for  nature,  struck  a 
chord  so  responsive  in  eighteenth-century  minds,  as  to 


THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE  125 

evoke  a  large  group  of  similar  confessions,  frankly 
imitative  in  their  nature.  Eousseau's  feeling  that  he 
was  different  from  other  men  held  also,  as  did  Car- 
dan's, the  belief  that  this  difference  was,  in  se,  pro- 
found and  important.  In  a  manner  somewhat  cloudy, 
yet  as  a  result  of  methodical  observation,  Rousseau 
comprehended  that  the  forces  which  produced  him 
were  sociological  and  economical;  while  to  himself  he 
typified  the  great  individual  struggle  with  these 
forces.  He  knew  that  he  was  neurotic  and  saw  what 
early  conditions  had  caused  the  neurosis ;  he  knew  that 
he  was  frail  of  physique,  and  yet  industrious.  He  felt 
within  himself  the  presence  of  a  high  creative  imagina- 
tion, and  he  had  faith  in  the  power  of  its  ideas.  His 
faith  was  justified,  for  he  beheld  the  nations  shaken 
by  the  wind  of  his  words,  and  he  felt  it  necessary 
that  men  should  know  something  of  what  he  was  and 
whence  his  spirit.125 

It  is  much  the  fashion  to  decry  Jean  Jacques,  to 
sneer  at  and  to  despise  him,  to  shudder  at  his  premises 
and  to  cavil  at  his  conclusions.  Morley,  for  instance, 
finds  that  "The  exaltation  of  the  opening  page  .  .  . 
is  shocking.  No  monk  or  saint  ever  wrote  anything 
more  revolting  in  its  barbarous  self  -feeling. " 126 
There  is  a  virtuous  indignation  expressed  here  which 
savors  a  thought  too  much  of  Mrs.  Grundy  to  be 
convincing  to  the  critical  mind.  For,  if  we  look  upon 
the  "Confessions"  from  one  point  of  view,  we  find 
ourselves  infinitely  in  their  debt.  True,  Cardan  is  the 
first  to  suggest  that  by  the  study  of  abnormal  man, 
much  might  be  learned  about  normal  man.  Cardan 


126  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

passed  with  the  passing  of  the  sixteenth  century ;  and 
suspected  as  he  was,  both  of  heresy  and  of  madness, 
his  work  has  been  left  locked  within  its  Latin  tomb.127 

Rousseau  attempted  the  same  task  in  a  living 
tongue.  Through  him,  through  his  appeal,  the  ex- 
ceptional person,  the  atypical  child,  the  individual 
with  the  intense  sensibilities  or  emotions,  have  come 
to  be  more  sympathetically  understood.  His  looking- 
within,  it  is  true,  revealed  much  that  was  unbalanced 
and  ugly,  but  it  also  revealed  what  was  human  nature, 
and  common  to  all  humanity.  The  part  borne  in  his 
life  by  the  pressure  of  monstrous  social  injustices  is 
differentiated  and  made  plain,  and  this  constitutes  no 
small  part  of  our  indebtedness.  In  fact,  the  rising 
humanitarianism  of  the  present  day  has  been  in- 
fluenced greatly,  if  not  wholly  produced,  by  Rousseau. 
Modern  child-study  and  child-training,  the  endeavor 
to  help  the  atypical  person  generally,  have  been  aided 
by  his  showing  us  himself.  The  facts  are  placed 
vividly  before  us,  when  he  purges  his  soul  in  all  sin- 
cerity. His  introspections  are  properly  balanced  by 
the  historical  method  and  made  constructive  by  the 
autobiographical  intention.128 

The  imitators  of  Rousseau  follow  most  often  his 
attention  to  nature,  and  its  reaction  upon  his  own 
sensibilities.  A  number  of  dreamers,  led  by  his  ex- 
ample to  note  their  dreams,  follow  his  footsteps  in  a 
rapturous,  feminized  manner.  Ecstatic  over  moun- 
tains and  waterfalls,  these  dreamers  lament  and  be- 
moan their  misfortunes  without  displaying  any  of 
the  robuster  qualities  of  Rousseau's  naked  candour. 
Lavater,  Richter,  and  Kotzebue  in  Germany;  Ugo 


THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE  127 

Foscolo  and  Giusti  in  Italy,  are  instances  of  this  type. 

Closer  to  Rousseau's  sense  of  style  is  that  of  De 
Senancour,  of  whose  "Obermann" 128  George  Sand 
has  written  an  exquisite  appreciation.  The  founda- 
tion of  De  Senancour 's  book  is  fictitious;  its  descrip- 
tive passages  resemble,  and  at  moments  equal,  Rous- 
seau, and  by  its  introspection  it  is  the  forerunner  of 
Amiel.  "Je  m'  interrogerai, "  writes  Obermann,  "je 
m'  observerai,  je  sonderai  ce  coeur  .  .  .  je  determin- 
erai  ce  que  je  suis."130  The  result  in  this  instance 
upon  the  self-analyst  is  particularly  destructive;  his 
lack  of  mental  vitality  renders  him  incapable  of  ac- 
tion. Years  slip  by  filled  with  a  sense  of  infinite 
illusion;  this  feeling  extends  even  to  his  nearest 
friends.  Withal,  he  is  unquiet  and  sad,  yet,  in  the 
manner  of  the  neurasthenic,  even  the  sadness  has  but 
little  meaning,  while  everything  in  life  seems  vague 
and  trivial.  The  book's  vogue  was  taken  as  an  indi- 
cation of  that  malacbie  du  siecle,  which  was  echoed  by 
Alfred  de  Musset,131  Baudelaire,  and  the  lesser 
Byronists. 

The  twentieth-century  mind  looking  back  over  the 
nineteenth,  is  at  times  inclined  to  wonder  how  much  of 
the  so-called  Byronism  was  due  to  Byron.132  The 
Byronic  attitude  is  supposed  to  include  all  possible 
introspective  egotism,  yet  Lord  Morley  is  at  hand  to 
point  out  the  fundamentally  objective  character  of  the 
poet  and  his  activities.133  Study  of  his  journals  and 
memoranda — which  are  all  that  remain  of  the  de- 
stroyed memoir — display  an  introspection  generally 
constructive  and  well  balanced.  Of  his  work,  he 
writes  that  it  will  be  "a  kind  of  guide-post  ...  to 


128  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

prevent  some  of  the  lies  which  will  be  told  and  de- 
stroy some  which  have  been  told  already."134  No 
doubt  his  expressed  wish  that  Lady  Byron  should  be 
his  reader,  is  responsible  for  his  intention  to  be  faith- 
ful and  sincere.135 

The  "Detached  Thoughts"  display  a  remarkable 
keenness  and  justice  in  their  self -observation.  "My 
passions  were  developed  very  early, ' '  he  writes,  * '  per- 
haps this  was  one  of  the  reasons  which  caused  the  an- 
ticipated melancholy  of  my  thoughts. ' ' 188  The 
"Journal,"  however,  is  more  melodramatic,  more 
typically  Byronic.  One  catches  the  morbid  mood, 
one  feels  the  scribbler  at  work.  Nightmares  are  made 
much  of;  there  are  such  phrases  as  "Ugh,  how  my 
blood  chilled!"  and  the  "Heighos"  of  the  blood-and- 
thunder  school. 

The  contrast  between  Byron  and  Shelley  in  this 
regard  is  curious  and  illuminating.  With  all  his 
melodrama,  Byron's  self -study  makes  an  attempt  at 
candour,  fulness,  and  method.  Shelley,  on  the  con- 
trary (whose  opinion  of  Rousseau's  "Confessions" 
has  not  been  forgotten),  found  the  truth  during  all 
his  life  to  be  an  unpleasant  surprise,  because  things 
as  they  are  were  such  an  ugly  contrast  to  things  as 
Shelley  thought  they  ought  to  be.  His  nature  seemed 
incapable  of  self-understanding,  just  as  we  read  in 
his  letters  that  it  was  incapable  also  of  understanding 
others.  He  was  vividly  mistaken  in  his  estimates  of 
the  character  of  almost  every  one  with  whom  he  came 
into  close  contact, — Harriet  and  Eliza  "Westbrook,  Miss 
Kitchener,  Hogg,  Claire  Clairmont,  Byron  himself.137" 
To  the  end,  he  retains  his  "colossal  power  of  self- 


THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE  129 

deception, ' '  as  Arnold  calls  it ;  he  remains  the  supreme 
example  of  a  man  untouched  by  the  modern  wave  of 
subjective  and  introspective  philosophy. 

"The  subjective  movement,"  says  Caird,  "indicates 
a  relative  advance  in  man's  consciousness  of  him- 
self .  .  .  for  although  the  mind  turned  back  upon 
itself  may  become  troubled  and  unhealthy,  yet  its  pain 
and  disease  are  necessary  steps  in  the  way  of  a  higher 
life."138 

This  relative  advance  Shelley  never  made;  with 
the  result  that  he  caused  quite  as  much  suffering  as 
though  he  had  been  an  unthinking  sensualist  of  the 
Cellini  type.  One  cannot  forget  poor,  silly,  little 
Harriet  writing,  in  a  gust  of  admiration,  how  Mrs. 
Nugent  was  there,  "talking  with  Percy  about  virtue !" 
And  one  notes  how  his  total  lack  of  self-study  and 
self -understanding  caused  Shelley  to  dash  himself  to 
pieces  against  the  disapproval  of  a  world,  not  so  much 
more  moral  as  more  subjective,  and  thus  unable  to 
see  why  Shelley  could  not  see  what  Shelley  really  was. 
With  what  different  and  deepened  feelings  do  we  read 
the  letters  of  that  sheltered  recluse  and  poet,  Mrs. 
Browning,  filled,  as  they  are,  with  the  most  delicate 
and  just  self -observation !  "I  have  lived  only  in- 
wardly," she  says,  "or  with  sorrow  for  a  strong  emo- 
tion .  .  .  my  heart  in  books  and  in  poetry  .  .  .  my 
experience  in  reveries. ' ' 139 

If  this  modern  subjectivity  be  an  advance  in  the 
gain  of  truth,  we  owe  it  to  Kousseau.  But  the 
twentieth-century  mind  under  modern  science  has  car- 
ried the  faculty  of  introspection  far  beyond  that  of 
the  eighteenth,  and  into  details  which  escaped  Jean 


130  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

Jacques.  Moreover,  the  mutual  interchange  of  lan- 
guages and  literatures  has  developed  a  type  of 
greater  sensitiveness  to  all  moods  and  to  all  shades  of 
thought. 

The  recently  published  notebooks  of  Emerson  fore- 
shadow many  of  the  newer  preoccupations,  by  means 
of  an  intellect  possessing  the  fresh  classic  quality, 
though  in  novel  surroundings.  His  tendency  toward 
philosophical  mysticism  has  more  importance  for  the 
reader  when  a  perusal  of  these  journals  indicates  its 
source.  Over  and  over  again  the  young  Emerson 
makes  note  of  the  influence  upon  his  mind  of  the  Neo- 
Platonists,  especially  Proclus,  by  whom  his  thought 
and  style  were  colored.  Those  passages  entitled  "My- 
self," display  some  of  the  acuteness  of  the  modern 
scientific  self -study,  if  expressed  in  an  outworn  poeti- 
cal manner.140  He  records  his  exaltation  under  the 
stimulus  of  nature  and  literature,  with  the  depression 
arising  from  his  wavering  health.  Deep  religious 
feeling  pervades  many  of  the  entries.  "I  am  to  give 
my  soul  to  God,  and  to  withdraw  from  sin  and  the 
world,"141  he  wrote;  and  we  know,  kept  that  resolu- 
tion. 

An  entry  made  on  his  nineteenth  birthday  forms 
a  valuable  aid  to  an  understanding  of  the  man.  This 
youth  writes  of  "a  goading  sense  of  emptiness  and 
wasted  capacity,"  but  grants  himself  "an  intellectual 
stature  above  the  common."  Of  his  affections,  he 
notes:  "A  blank,  my  lord.  .  .  .  Ungenerous,  selfish, 
cautious  and  cold,  ...  I  yet  wish  to  be  romantic. 
There  is  not  one  being  to  whom  I  am  attached  with 


THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE  131 

warm  and  entire  devotion."142  No  doubt  such 
1  'frightful  confessions"  are  exaggerated;  yet  they  de- 
fine that  lack  of  human  warmth  which  underlay  his 
whole  philosophy.  If  he  was  not  to  remain  the  ' '  bar- 
ren and  desolate  soul"143  he  called  himself;  yet  he 
knew  his  weakness.  Later,  he  notes  that  he  lacked 
strong  reasoning  power ; 144  in  other  respects  his  in- 
tellect seems  to  have  made,  in  a  single  year,  gigantic 
strides  toward  greatness. 

Modern  self -study,  however,  is  not  typically  seen 
in  a  mind  like  Emerson's,  whose  calibre  and  character 
are  those  of  the  past.  The  "Journal"  of  Henri- 
Charles  Amiel,145  to  certain  temperaments,  has  car- 
ried an  infinitely  greater  aid  and  suggestiveness. 
Many  see  in  him  a  true  example  of  the  highest  in- 
trospection, for,  while  he  paused  to  watch  himself, 
he  expressed  what  he  saw  in  words  of  the  most  accu- 
rately delicate  beauty.  The  effect  of  the  book  was  im- 
mediate ; 146  there  are  those  to  whom  it  has  seemed 
to  voice  the  very  rhythm  of  life.  The  style  was  so 
sensitive,  so  flexible,  so  full,  that  one  read  on  in  a  sort 
of  bewilderment,  as  a  traveller  might  behold,  on  either 
side  of  his  path,  the  strange  charms  of  a  new  country. 

In  her  admirable  "Introduction  to  the  Journal," 
Mrs.  "Ward  calls  Amiel  "the  brother  of  Obermann," 
but  to  our  minds  there  seems  little  real  brotherhood 
between  the  eighteenth  and  the  nineteenth  centuries. 
Amiel  himself  wrote  that  he  resembled  "that  eternal 
self -chronicler,  Maine  de  Biran,"  whose  introspective 
experiments  had  so  little  success,  at  least  on  the  posi- 
tive side.  What  Amiel  did  not  take  from  French 


132  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

psychology,  he  drew  from  the  German  subjective  phi- 
losophers, and  the  combination  served  to  heighten  far 
beyond  the  average  his  power  of  "looking  within." 
While  he  is  "the  spectator  of  his  life-drama,"  he,  too, 
like  Cardan,  like  Obermann,  or  any  other  neuras- 
thenic, brings  with  him,  into  the  world-theatre,  that 
strained  sense  of  universal  illusion. 

Nor  did  his  tendency  to  constant  personal  analysis 
fail  of  destructive  effect.  Confidence  he  always 
lacked.  "That  energetic  subjectivity  which  has  faith 
in  itself,"  he  observes,  "is  unknown  to  me."  "I 
have  never  felt  any  inward  assurance  of  genius  .  .  . 
what  dreams  I  have  are  all  vague  and  indefinite." 
How  different  the  note  struck  by  that  Italian  doctor 
struggling  against  a  host  of  difficulties  unknown  to 
modern  lives!  "I  have  lived  to  myself,"  cried  Car- 
dan, "so  far  as  has  been  permitted  to  me,  and  in 
the  hope  of  the  future  I  have  despised  the  present."  147 

The  self-distrust  of  Amiel  was  based  on  his  self- 
knowledge.  He  was  undecided  and  overscrupulous: 
discouragement  and  ennui  early  laid  hold  on  him. 
Moreover,  he  was  one  of  those  unfortunate  beings 
whom  nature  has  so  stinted  of  vitality  that  the  mere 
demands  of  daily  life  draw  too  heavily  upon  them,  and 
they  shrink  fearfully  from  the  greater  demands  of 
emotion,  or  of  ambition.  To  such  an  one,  any  creative 
work  is  undertaken  at  a  heavy  price.  Thought  alone, 
to  Amiel,  was  immense  and  satisfying;  practical  life 
seemed  but  to  terrify  him.  He  was  perpetually  pre- 
paring for  a  work  which  he  had  never  the  energy  to 
begin.  "I  play  scales  as  it  were,"  he  writes;  "I  run 


THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE  133 

up  and  down  my  instrument,  I  train  my  hand  .  .  . 
but  the  work  itself  remains  unachieved  .  .  .  and  my 
energy  is  swallowed  up  in  a  kind  of  barren  curiosity. ' ' 
Such  a  nature,  like  Balzac's  artist,148  has  spent  its 
force  in  experiment,  and  has  none  left  for  the  ap- 
pointed task.  Hence  Amiel's  languor  and  ennui, 
the  sense  of  emptiness  which  caused  him  to  lose  him- 
self in  the  mists  of  philosophical  speculation.  "What 
interested  me  most  in  myself,"  he  notes,  "has  been 
the  pleasure  of  having  under  my  hand  a  person  in 
whom,  as  an  authentic  specimen  of  human  nature, 
I  could  follow  ...  all  the  metamorphoses,  the  se- 
cret thoughts,  the  heart-beats,  the  temptations  of 
humanity."  To  himself,  he  is  continually  as  "a  win- 
dow open  upon  the  mystery  of  the  world."  At  mo- 
ments there  flutters  across  his  page  one  of  those  deli- 
cate moods,  whose  description  defies  our  grosser  analy- 
sis, but  which  Amiel  beholds  in  all  its  tenuous  irides- 
cence: "I  can  find  no  words  for  what  I  feel.  My 
consciousness  is  withdrawn  into  myself.  I  hear  my 
heart  beating  and  my  life  passing."  And  again:  "My 
sensible  consciousness  is  concentrated  upon  this  ideal 
standing-point  .  .  .  whence  one  hears  the  impetuous 
passage  of  time,  rushing  and  foaming  as  it  flows  out 
into  the  changeless  ocean  of  eternity." 

Amiel  has  served  us  here  as  an  example  of  pure  and 
heightened  introspection,  but  his  journal  is  also  a 
record  of  his  religious  feeling.  This  feeling  links  him 
with  the  mystics  of  the  past — notably  Richard  of  St. 
Victor,  with  whom  he  has  many  points  of  likeness. 
His  religion  is  of  the  metaphysical,  mystical  type, 


134  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

tinged  by  his  German  heritage,  and  is  nowhere  so  in- 
tense, emotionally,  as  the  introspection  by  which  it 
was  accompanied. 

Minor  types  of  the  modern  developed  self -observer 
are  many,  and  fall  under  various  classifications. 
Those  who  watch  their  own  processes  should  be  con- 
sidered at  the  moment  rather  than  the  scientific  self- 
students  who  merely  survey  themselves  as  they  would 
study  a  crystal  of  definite  character  and  fixed  shape. 
The  great  latter-day  autobiographers,  Harriet  Mar- 
tineau,  Mill,  Spencer,  and  others,  are  among  these 
last,  and  have  furnished  us  with  the  best  means  of 
examining  the  modern  scientific  movement.  Yet  .the 
smaller  group  of  the  purely  introspective  must  not  be 
overlooked.  Their  observations  form  at  least  a  solid 
basis  "in  a  world  most  of  whose  other  facts  have  at 
some  time  tottered  in  the  breath  of  philosophic 
doubt. ' ' 149  The  reader  is  referred  to  such  books  as  the 
"  Journals "  of  Eugenie  and  Maurice  de  Guerin,  to 
that  of  Marie  Bashkirtsev,  and  to  such  collections  of 
letters  as  MerimeVs,  Balzac's,  and  the  Brownings,  if 
he  is  interested  in  the  further  manifestations  of  this 
tendency. 

As  we  turn  to  review  the  names  in  this  section,  we 
feel  the  justice  of  that  view  by  which  the  introspective 
nature  has,  since  the  day  of  Protagoras,  been  linked 
with  morbid  conditions.  Certainly,  Montaigne,  Car- 
dan, Rousseau,  De  Senancour,  Amiel,  are  not  the  types 
of  health.  Yet  there  are  very  striking  exceptions  to 
this  rule.  Take  that  extraordinary  family  of  English 
Quakers,  the  Gurneys  of  Earlham,150  and  note  how 


THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE  135 

the  connection  between  introspection  and  sickliness  is 
contradicted  by  the  facts  of  their  lives.  Both  descrip- 
tions and  portraits  of  the  members  of  this  family  show 
them  to  have  possessed  an  unusual  degree  of  physical 
beauty  and  vigor,  health  and  intelligence.  The  gal- 
lery of  miniatures  shows  one  lovely  young  face  after 
another.  Their  family  history  radiates  cheerfulness, 
activity,  and  high  spirits.  They  went  fox-hunting, 
a  cluster  of  pretty  girls,  in  "pink"  coats,  which  at 
that  time  no  tenet  of  the  Society  of  Friends  forbade 
them  to  wear.  They  were  never  idle,  they  were  much 
outdoors;  they  danced  and  gave  dinners  and  were  as 
gay  as  their  neighbors.  With  all  this,  the  deepest, 
the  most  introspective  and  intense  religious  life 
formed  the  primary  occupation  of  that  family.  Each 
member  kept  an  introspective  journal,  and  one  of 
these  (Rachel's)  runs  to  seventeen  quarto  volumes. 
As  each  grew  to  maturity,  this  religious  sentiment 
shaped  itself  variously,  retaining  a  uniform  stand- 
ard of  goodness  and  zeal.  The  unique  condition  ex- 
isted among  them,  in  that  their  individual  changes  of 
creed  caused  no  break  in  their  family  harmony.  All 
show  balance  and  self-control.  Mrs.  Fry  records  the 
death  of  her  beloved  sister,  Priscilla  Gurney,  as  "a 
sweet  time,"  and  her  account  reads  with  the  calm 
solemnity  of  a  church  service. 

From  childhood,  the  Gurneys  were  in  the  habit  of 
noting  every  passing  mood.  Meditation  and  journaliz- 
ing were  two  family  dogmas ;  a  part  of  each  day  was 
set  aside,  and  absolute  truthfulness  was  exacted,  even 
although  the  elders  did  not  demand  to  read  the  result. 
One  is  tempted  to  linger  over  the  naivete  and  charm 


136  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

of  these  entries.  "I  feel  this  evening,"  writes 
Richenda,  "  in  a  most  comfortable  mind.  ...  I  really 
felt  true  pleasure  while  I  was  eating  an  excellent  apple 
pudding.  ...  I  walked  by  myself  about  the  fields, 
with  the  most  melancholy,  delightful  feelings,  re- 
flecting on  a  future  state."  "As  I  went  down  the 
dance  yesterday,"  writes  her  sister  Louisa,  "I 
thought  of  Heaven  and  of  God."  One  of  the  broth- 
ers, John  James,  enters  in  his  diary  a  series  of  ques- 
tions for  the  purpose  of  systematic  self-examination; 
while  the  elder  sister  Catherine,  who  left  the  So- 
ciety to  join  the  English  Church,  analyzes  at  length 
the  effect  which  Butler's  "Analogy"  had  on  her  re- 
ligious views.  This  useful,  happy,  and  amiable  fam- 
ily serves  to  remind  us  that  the  introspective  habit 
is  by  no  means  necessarily  destructive.  When  the 
inner  life  of  an  individual  is  full  of  vitality,  the  in- 
trospection is  often  a  natural  means  of  preserving 
that  vitality.  As  a  group,  the  Friends  have  always 
possessed  it;  nor  can  it  be  shown  to  have  interfered 
with  their  output  of  practical  achievement.  Worldly 
interests  rarely  suffered  at  their  hands ;  and  their  tend- 
ency to  self -observation  was,  in  most  cases,  a  construc- 
tive factor  in  their  lives. 

There  is  another  sense  in  which  an  introspective 
nature  may  be  at  its  best  during  its  introspections; 
since  the  light  will  be  cast  into  any  morbid  shadows  by 
any  honest  effort  at  self -understanding.  The  name  of 
the  late  Oscar  Wilde,  during  his  lifetime  and  before 
the  tragedy  which  closed  it,  was  linked  in  men 's  mind 
with  the  world's  poseurs.  The  cleverness  of  his  work 
and  its  esthetic  finish  hardly  atoned  for  its  insincerity, 


THE  INTROSPECTIVE  TYPE  137 

its  perversity,  and  its  exaggerated  pose.  Had  death 
but  overtaken  him  in  time,  he  might  easily  have  gone 
down  into  the  ages  along  with  George  Brummell,  or 
William  Beckford,  or  the  Count  de  St.  Germain, — 
and  little  would  have  remained  but  a  poem  or  two,  a 
Tdon-mot,  the  tradition  of  a  sunflower  in  a  velvet  coat. 
But  life  is  a  ruthless  dramatist,  who  startles  us  without 
compunction.  From  this  figure — cast  into  the  torture- 
chamber  of  her  grimmest  forces,  crime  and  shame  and 
judgment, — there  rises  a  poignant  cry  "out  of  the 
depths."  Strange,  that  the  most  sincere  piece  of 
self -study  of  our  day  should  have  come  from  the  least 
sincere  writer,  that  this  most  religious  of  modern  soul- 
studies  should  be  the  work  of  the  most  pagan  of  mod- 
ern souls ! 

The  "De  Profundis"  was  written  in  prison  during 
the  last  years  of  the  nineteenth  century.  Mention  of 
it  should  fitly  bring  this  long  survey  to  a  close.  Its 
style  is  not  always  free  from  phrase  and  paradox, 
("I  went  down  the  primrose  path  to  the  sound  of 
flutes"151),  and  the  author  exaggerates  his  position 
in  contemporary  letters  by  comparing  himself  to 
Byron.  But  his  work  is  much  more  than  an  exposi- 
tion of  personal  vanity;  and  it  is  in  no  sense  an  apol- 
ogy. The  absence  of  weak  excuse  helps  to  make  it  the 
most  inspiring  study  of  the  effects  of  suffering  upon 
character  that  we  possess  in  English.  ' l  In  the  begin- 
ning God  made  a  world  for  each  separate  man,  and  in 
that  world,  which  is  within  us,  we  should  seek  to  live. 
...  I  must  say  to  myself  that  I  ruined  myself  and 
that  nobody  great  or  small  can  be  ruined  except  by 
his  own  hand. ' ' 1B2  These  words  express  a  truth  which 


188  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

cannot  be  reached  save  through  the  bitterest  experi- 
ences, while  to  have  realized  it  is  almost  to  have  freed 
one's  self  from  their  worst  bitterness. 

*  *  There  is  only  one  thing  left  for  me  now,  absolute 
humility. ' ' 153  This  realization  is  the  saving  grace  of 
the  man  who  wrote ;  nor  is  there  anything  in  literature 
closer  to  truth  than  his  own  analysis  of  the  reasons 
for  his  fall.  He  was,  indeed,  * '  that  man,  who,  wishing 
to  write  about  everything,  must  know  everything, ' ' 154 
of  Balzac.  His  belief  in  reconstruction  through  suf- 
fering is  reiterated  in  a  noble  music  of  language;  for 
he,  who  began  life  by  turning  his  back  on  all  sorrow, 
had  now  come  to  feel  "that  sorrow  is  the  most  sensi- 
tive of  all  created  things. ' ' 155  * '  Nothing  seems  to 
me,"  he  writes,  "of  the  smallest  value  except  what 
one  gets  out  of  one's  self.  ...  I  have  got  to  make 
everything  that  has  happened  to  me  good  for  me. ' '  In 
the  crucible  of  humility  and  suffering  some  of  the 
shame  has  been  purged  away;  the  sketch  ends  in  the 
renewal  of  hope,  of  life,  of  beauty, — if  upon  other 
terms.  The  mere  composition  has  been  an  aid  to  the 
spirit  of  hope,  "since  it  is  by  utterance  that  we  live." 

A  communication  such  as  the  "De  Profundis" 
brings  nearer  the  sense  of  human  dependence.  Each 
one  of  us  is  forced  by  inexorable  law  to  pass  on  to  the 
race  the  result  of  his  experience.  An  identical  im- 
pulse moved  Augustin  or  Descartes,  as  it  moved 
Abelard  or  Wilde.  For  many  centuries,  introspec- 
tion has  been  the  instrument  in  the  hand  of  this  im- 
pulse; and  as  an  instrument,  it  has  not  been  found 
more  imperfect  than  the  other  means  through  which 
humanity  strives  continually  to  attain  the  truth. 


IV 

THE  DOCUMENTS 


I.  Change  of  belief. 
II.  Genius. 

III.  Groups. 

IV.  Methodists. 
V.  Quakers. 

VI.  Mormons. 
VII.  Identity  of  emotion. 
VIII.  Candour. 
IX.  Scientific  self -observation. 


IV 

THE  DOCUMENTS 

As  we  approach  the  self -study  more  nearly,  it  be- 
comes evident  that  some  adequate  plan  for  its  survey 
must  be  formulated.  The  documents  themselves  are 
various  as  the  personalities  responsible  for  them; 
while  the  matter  they  contain  is  so  scattered  and  so 
heterogeneous,  that  the  task  of  sifting  it  seems  at  first 
sight  to  be  as  hopeless  as  the  task  which  Venus  set 
before  Psyche.1  The  temptation,  to  which  many 
workers  in  this  field  have  yielded,  is  to  make  use  of 
separate  records  as  instances,  to  cull  here  and  there 
the  striking  example,  omitting  the  commonplace;  to 
select,  in  a  word,  only  those  cases  which  serve  to 
support  their  special  theory.  Such  method  is  quite 
impossible  in  the  case  of  the  present  volume.  If  this 
is  to  be  an  inductive  study  from  all  the  obtainable 
facts,  then  a  classification  under  different  heads  is 
naturally  the  first  step.  Ere  we  set  to  work  to  make 
this  classification,  let  us  glance  at  the  main  charac- 
teristics of  the  records,  in  the  light  of  those  funda- 
mental causes  which  have  just  been  discussed. 

That  all  religious  self-studies  have  been  produced 
by  the  confession-motive  working  along  with  the 
tendency  toward  introspection,  would  seem  to  have 
been  the  conclusion  arrived  at  by  an  investigation 

141 


142  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

into  these  basic  principles.  The  wish  to  "tell  all 
about  it"  produces  a  necessary  "looking- within"  to 
see  what  there  is  to  tell.  Upon  the  web  of  a  fabric 
whose  warp  and  woof  seem  to  be  always  woven  from 
the  same  threads,  there  is  a  design  wonderfully  varied 
and  complex,  in  colors  often  strange  and  new.  Just 
as  the  Polynesian  tapa,  at  the  first  glance,  seems  to 
show  in  its  pattern  a  purely  individual  caprice,  yet, 
when  studied,  its  design  will  be  found  to  contain  ele- 
ments tribal,  hereditary,  even  national,  and  individual 
only  as  they  are  combined — so  it  is  with  these  narra- 
tives. Their  individual  qualities  may  readily  be  dif- 
ferentiated, they  lie  rather  in  arrangement  than  in 
motif.  All  come  under  the  sway  of  the  same  social 
and  psychological  influences,  such  as  group-contagion, 
imitation,  social  conditions,  and  changes  in  belief.  In 
addition,  there  are  always  a  few  which  are  purely 
the  outcome  of  the  creative  instinct,  the  result  of 
genius.  These  form  the  main  motifs  in  the  design  of 
the  religious  confession;  and  one  must  examine  them 
well  if  he  would  understand  the  often  elaborate  fig- 
ures of  which  they  form  an  intricate  and  essential 
part. 

That  human  nature  does  not  take  an  account  of 
itself  when  in  a  state  of  repose  and  equipoise,  appears 
obvious;  change  therefore  is  the  first  law  of  the  re- 
ligious confession.  Once  his  poise  is  disturbed  the 
subject  tends  to  ask  himself :  What  am  I  ?  and  whence 
these  changes? 

The  ardently  pious  mind,  having  passed  through  a 
crisis  caused  either  by  a  shifting  of  his  religious  point 
of  view 2  or  by  the  actual  birth  of  a  feeling  unknown 


THE  DOCUMENTS  143 

before,3  reaches  a  pause  of  comparative  calm  whence 
two  impulses  arise.  If  the  condition  be  one  of  peace 
and  joy, — which,  temporarily,  it  is  apt  to  be, — he  is 
filled  with  a  desire  to  communicate  and  to  express 
his  happiness.  Using  his  own  phrase,  he  longs  "to 
bear  testimony  to  the  goodness  of  God ' ' ;  and  his  con- 
fession thereupon  becomes  the  Augustinian  "Confes- 
sion of  praise. ' '  * 

More  frequently  it  happens  that  the  storm  through 
which  his  soul  has  just  passed  has  been  severe  enough 
to  shake  the  very  foundations  of  the  mind  with  un- 
certainty and  terror.  To  review  it  upon  paper,  to 
re-trace  the  circumstances  of  his  conversion  and  thus 
reassure  himself  of  its  blessed  existence,  is  a  means  of 
establishing  that  serenity,  of  which,  even  now,  he  is  by 
no  means  certain.5  If  he  has  friends,  family,  follow- 
ers, he  is  eagerly  desirous  that  they  shall  witness  his 
conflict  and  appreciate  the  worth  of  his  victory.6  It 
is  more  than  important  to  him  that  the  world  should 
know  he  is  not  now  what  he  was  before. 

Of  inspiration,  of  genius,  at  this  crisis,  our  mention 
may  be  but  brief.  Such  cases,  at  best,  are  all  too 
few.  Nevertheless,  it  were  well  to  repeat  that  the 
great  religious  leaders,  by  the  very  fact  of  their 
genius,  must  needs  leave  behind  them  some  systematic 
personal  data.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  most  of  them 
have  done  so;  and  such  material  has  been  left  in 
various  forms,  in  sermon 7  or  parable,8  diary 9  or  reve- 
lation.10 Since  they  have  prevailed  as  leaders  largely 
through  the  force  of  personality,  to  impress  that 
personality  as  much  as  possible,  becomes  an  inevi- 
table duty  of  their  sacred  mission.  No  religious 


144  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

leader  has  succeeded — nor  could  he  hope  to  succeed 
— without  a  plentiful  use  of  the  "I."  His  gen- 
ius must  make  its  direct  personal  appeal.  And  in 
these  later  days  this  personal  appeal  must  be  printed 
if  it  would  reach  a  wider  audience,  such  as  earlier 
gathered  to  hear  him  when  he  preached  to  them 
upon  a  mountain,11  or  under  a  sacred  tree,12  or  in 
the  market-place  of  a  Grecian  city.13  He  may  leave 
this  appeal  only  in  his  letters  to  intimate  friends  and 
disciples ; 14  or  in  a  diary  to  which,  under  the  seal 
of  a  cypher,  he  confided  his  combats  and  discourage- 
ments ; 15  yet  often  there  will  be  present,  even  in  these 
private  forms,  an  autobiographical  intention  showing 
his  instinctive  desire  that  the  record  should  survive 
him,  that  it  should  be  read. 

But  genius  is  genius,  and  for  one  Fox,  for  one  Wes- 
ley, there  are  many  Woolmans  and  Hansons.  Of  the 
asteroids  which  circle  about  genius  as  about  a  lumi- 
nary, some  merely  reflect  his  light,  while  others  will  be 
I'ound  to  shed  a  paler  light  all  their  own.  The  forma- 
tion of  groups  in  human  society  differs  little  from 
the  group-habit  of  the  cosmos.  Laws  governing  this 
formation  have  received  some  attention  in  a  former 
volume,16  though  in  a  wider  and  more  general  con- 
nection, and  were  therein  shown  to  follow  the  princi- 
ples obtaining  in  the  formation  of  all  crowds.  The 
confessant,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  is  completely  subject 
to  what  has  been  termed  "the  law  of  the  mental  unity 
of  crowds  ";17  and  is  much  affected  by  contagion. 

The  particular  groups  through  which  we  may  study 
these  typical  conditions  readily  occur  to  the  mind. 
Such  are  the  Gottesfreunde,  in  fourteenth-century 


THE  DOCUMENTS  145 

Germany;  the  English  Quakers  grouped  around  the 
leadership  of  George  Fox;  the  English  Methodists 
similarly  grouped  around  John  Wesley;  the  Scottish 
seventeenth-century  Pietists;  the  French  Port-Royal- 
ists; the  American  Mormons.  The  family  likeness 
shown  by  the  individual  members  of  these  clusters 
is  sufficiently  striking  to  demonstrate  the  closeness 
of  the  tie  between  them.  Nor  must  one  forget  what 
Sainte-Beuve  is  at  some  pains  to  remind  us;  that 
until  modern  days  the  influence  of  Augustin  was 
manifest  not  over  one,  but  over  all  types  of  the  crea- 
tive religious  mind.18  Augustin  was  in  fact  "a  great 
empire  divided  among  such  distinguished  heirs  as 
Malebranche,  Bossuet,  and  Fenelon."  Already  have 
we  noticed  in  another  section  the  breadth  of  that  king- 
dom, which  includes  him  who  was  named  as  the  first 
of  the  moderns. 

A  general  study  of  religious  movements  will  serve 
to  confirm  our  impression  of  the  part  played  therein 
by  group-contagion.  Inevitably  one  returns  to  the 
importance  of  the  personal  element;  and  to  the  need, 
felt  by  every  religious  leader,  of  making  that  element 
prevail.  The  means  lay  at  hand  ever  since  the  print- 
ing-press stood  ready  to  carry  the  Gospel  among  the 
Gentiles.  Through  this  means,  the  freshness  and 
force  of  the  original  emotion  will  have  all  the  weight 
that  the  leader  can  give  to  it,  will  create  new  centres 
of  that  emotion  and  charge  them  with  new  energy. 

If  this  religious  leader  be  a  mystic  of  the  ancient 
pattern, — a  Teresa,  or  a  Mme.  Guyon — she  is  urged  to 
expression  through  the  influence  of  the  confessional. 
If  he  be  a  reformer  like  Fox  or  Swedenborg,  the  motive 


146  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

of  self-preservation  acts  as  a  strong  incentive ;  for  such 
a  leader  must  leave  an  image  of  himself  upon  the 
printed  page,  so  that  his  followers  may  be  cheered 
when  he  has  left  them.  If  the  conditions  surround- 
ing him  have  been  those  of  success,  this  motive  may 
be  weakened,  the  diary  or  the  day-book  may  be  briefer 
and  more  formal.  This  is  to  be  seen  in  the  case  of 
the  Wesleys,  whose  personal  success  was  so  overpow- 
ering. But  such  success  is,  after  all,  not  common ;  the 
religious  reformer  is  apt  to  die  while  still  uncertain 
as  to  the  accomplishment  of  his  mission. 

The  exact  relation  of  the  confessant  to  his  group 
is  one  not  easy  to  determine ;  since  he  is  chary  of  ma- 
terial serviceable  to  that  end.  Individuality  is  ever 
jealous;  and  a  confessant  dislikes  to  admit  his  con- 
formity to  any  existing  pattern.  He  is  apt,  on  the 
other  hand,  to  protest  loudly  his  entire  originality,  and 
to  cry  that  the  extent  of  his  candour  in  self -revelation 
has  never  been  before  attempted.19  Style  is  at  times 
the  only  link  which  appears  to  bind  him  to  the  other 
members  of  his  group.  Usually  he  will  describe  the 
social  conditions  surrounding  himself  and  the  circum- 
stances of  his  belief,  thus  displaying  the  strength  of 
the  religious  influence  to  which  he  has  been  exposed. 
In  the  earlier  confessions  this  may  only  be  done  in- 
directly; we  may  have  lost  much  because  of  the  si- 
lence of  Augustin,  concerning  all  these  matters. 

The  force  of  group-contagion  is  almost  always  un- 
derestimated. The  great  religious  leader  is  far  too 
often  treated  as  an  isolated  phenomenon,  when,  as  a 
matter  of  fact,  he  is  almost  never  an  isolated  phe- 
nomenon. There  seems  to  prevail  the  opinion  that 


THE  DOCUMENTS  147 

he  would  become  less  important  and  less  worthy  if  this 
truth  were  known.  Actually,  this  is  not  the  case. 
Joan  of  Arc  20  has  not  been  rendered  less  extraordi- 
nary because  she  is  now  shown  to  have  been  but  one 
of  many  seers  of  visions  and  hearers  of  voices,  all  eager 
to  aid  in  quieting  their  distracted  country.  Is  Christ 
less  wonderful  because  of  John  the  Baptist  ?  Religion, 
as  one  of  the  more  communicable  emotions,  postulates 
the  existence  of  a  leader  or  leaders  and  a  group  of  fol- 
lowers; some  of  whom  may  possess  talent  and  force 
enough  to  become  leaders  in  their  turn,  and  to  set  up  a 
further  group-contagion.  This  is  as  true  of  later  liter- 
ary groups,  as  of  the  earlier  clusters  who  listened  and 
followed  the  man  himself. 

The  main  clusters  of  confessants  are  thickest  dur- 
ing and  after  the  upheavals  of  the  Eeformation. 
Those  documents  which  exist  earlier  come  from  con- 
vents and  monasteries,  and  their  character  is  largely 
predetermined  by  their  surroundings.  Bearing  all 
the  marks  of  an  early  simplicity  and  credulity,  they 
are  of  great  value,  for  by  means  of  these  records  may 
be  studied  the  whole  of  mediaeval  mysticism,  and  in 
particular  that  state  known  as  sanctification,  so  vehe- 
mently discussed  to-day.  But  as  nuclei,  as  definite 
groups,  these  records  cannot  be  considered  with  any 
justice,  since  the  countries  and  the  periods  of  time 
which  they  cover  are  too  wide  for  satisfactory  classi- 
fication. 

Let  us  rather  direct  our  attention,  for  the  moment, 
to  the  typical  record-groups  of  the  Protestant  sects. 
The  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  century  pietistic  re- 
vivals furnish  an  abundance  of  material  toward  the 


148  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

study  of  these  religious  families;  not  the  least  impor- 
tant of  which  lies  in  their  strong  individuality  and 
marked  communal  feeling.  The  English  Quakers,  the 
later  English  Methodists,  possess  striking  group-char- 
acteristics, and  are  wholly  accessible  for  the  purpose 
of  comparative  study.  An  examination  of  them,  as 
groups,  will  form  a  useful  background  to  our  further 
consideration  of  their  individual  examples. 

Although  John  "Wesley  left  no  autobiography  and 
although  his  journal  is  by  no  means  so  introspective  as 
many  another,  yet  he  understood  in  the  fullest  measure 
how  important  was  this  method  of  perpetuating  a  re- 
ligious movement.  The  lives  led  by  most  of  his  preach- 
ers were  full  of  physical  as  well  as  spiritual  adven- 
ture ;  and  Wesley,  when  editing  the  ' '  Arminian  Mag- 
azine, "  appreciated  to  the  full  the  value  of  all  this 
material.  We  read  that:  "Mr.  Wesley  requested 
many  of  the  itinerant  preachers  who  were  em- 
ployed under  his  sanction  to  give  him  in  writing  an 
account  of  their  personal  history,  including  a  record  of 
their  conversion  to  God,  of  the  circumstances  under 
which  they  were  led  to  minister  the  word  of  life,  and 
of  the  principal  events  connected  with  their  public 
labours.  "21 

Here  it  is  evident  that  Wesley's  keen  perception  as- 
sured him  of  the  need  to  cultivate  a  group-sentiment 
around  the  Methodist  revival;  and  our  knowledge  of 
his  mind  leads  us  to  suppose  that  he  was  well  ac- 
quainted with  similar,  earlier  groups.  Be  that  as  it 
may,  the  result  of  his  request  was  a  collection  of  testi- 
monies which  formed  an  admirable  basis  for  any  study 
of  the  tendencies  of  that  period,  and  which,  together 


THE  DOCUMENTS  149 

with  the  Quaker  group,  forms  a  complete  record  of  re- 
ligious history  during  two  centuries. 

It  will  be  observed  that  Wesley  merely  outlined  the 
plan  of  these  biographies,  leaving  the  widest  latitude  to 
their  writers.  He  seems  to  have  had  an  unconscious 
reliance  upon  that  impulse  which  we  have  named  *  *  the 
autobiographical  intention,"  and  he  does  not  appear 
to  place  the  slightest  faith  in  the  method  known  later 
as  the  "questionnaire."  And  it  is  amazing  how  well 
he  is  justified  in  this  opinion.  The  Methodist  testi- 
monies, as  a  whole,  are  reliable,  accurate,  well-bal- 
anced, full  of  detail,  yet  marked  with  brevity,  and 
pervaded  with  a  feeling  for  essentials.  Compared  to 
the  confusion,  the  vagueness,  the  lack  of  character  in 
most  "questionnaire"  replies,  these  facts  are  very 
striking.  They  serve  to  show  beyond  possible  con- 
tradiction that  the  spontaneous  action  of  the  mind 
upon  any  subject  is  an  absolute  prerequisite  to  gaining 
the  truth;  while  forcing  the  mind  and  memory  arbi- 
trarily in  a  given  direction,  as  is  done  by  a  set  of 
questions,  inevitably  causes  the  writer  to  omit,  or  to 
distort  the  emphasis,  or  to  shift  the  facts.  That  vital 
element  of  the  unexpected  must  perforce  be  lacking; 
while  an  over-zealous  desire  to  furnish  an  interrogator 
with  data  will  oftentimes  cause  the  writer  to  manufac- 
ture it  when  it  is  not  there.  The  questionnaire  is 
intended  to  be  a  short-cut,  and  it  has  the  disadvan- 
tages of  most  short-cuts;  together  with  fundamental 
unfitness  of  its  means  to  its  material.  Wise  John 
Wesley,  to  ask  of  his  ministers  only  "an  account  of 
their  personal  history  with  a  record  of  their  con- 
version to  God"! 


150  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

By  no  stretch  of  imagination  can  Wesley  be  termed 
a  mystic,  yet  it  is  strangely  true  that  there  are  more 
mystics  among  his  followers  than  among  those  of 
George  Fox  himself.  This  impression  may  be  due  to 
the  fact  that  it  is  only  the  leaders  of  the  Methodists 
— the  active  preachers  of  the  sect — who  have  left  their 
testimony ;  whereas  the  feeling  among  the  Friends  was 
such  that  the  humblest  among  them  has  left  a  record  of 
God's  dealings  with  him. 

More  women  write  their  experiences  among  the 
Friends  than  among  the  Methodists;  yet,  although 
the  Wesleyan  movement  bears  all  tokens  of  its  later 
development,  there  still  remain  striking  likenesses  be- 
tween the  two  groups.  Both  are  part  of  that  great 
revival  springing  from  the  people — a  wave  of  emotion 
sweeping  up  from  the  hearts  of  the  poor. 

Although  we  know  that  the  Society  of  Friends  has 
been  in  existence  only  since  the  lifetime  of  George 
Fox ; *2  yet  every  Philadelphia!!,  at  least,  refers  with 
assurance  to  the  Quaker  face,  the  Quaker  character, 
and  even  to  minor  Quaker  traits  and  idiosyncrasies. 
Many  of  these  characteristics,  of  course,  have  nothing 
to  do  with  the  Society;  but  are  merely  indicative  of 
that  type  of  English  person,  and  that  section  of  Eng- 
lish country,  from  which  its  votaries  were  originally 
drawn.  Yet  many  traits  remain,  which  in  a  space 
of  but  two  hundred  years  have  stamped  themselves 
upon  human  life  in  such  a  manner  as  to  produce 
a  recognizable  type.  Any  one  noting  an  example  so 
pertinent  of  human  malleability  can  no  longer  wonder 
at  the  effect  which  religious  beliefs  have  produced  in 
a  comparatively  short  time  upon  communities,  even 


THE  DOCUMENTS  151 

upon  nations.  To  such  an  one  the  cruelties  of  the 
Spanish  during  the  time  of  the  Inquisition,  the  in- 
sensibility of  the  modern  Japanese  to  pain  and  death, 
present  no  longer  any  enigma.  These  are,  indeed, 
but  manifestations  of  the  peculiar  susceptibility  of 
the  human  race  as  a  whole,  and  of  some  nationalities 
in  particular,  to  suggestion:  and  this  suggestibility  is 
thus  seen  as  a  great  factor  in  our  evolution.  So  great 
a  factor,  is  it  indeed,  that  the  disappearance  of  a  spe- 
cial suggestion  (furnished  in  many  cases  by  the  tenets 
of  religion)  is  followed  by  the  disappearance  of  the 
special  type,  and  the  rapid  subsidence  of  its  particular 
idiosyncrasies,  under  the  pressure  of  fresh  suggestions. 
Rare  to-day,  and  becoming  rapidly  rarer,  is  that  con- 
trolled, serene  personality  which  was  produced  and 
educated  under  the  influence  of  the  Society  of  Friends. 
The  reader  of  their  memoirs,  testimonies,  and  convince- 
ments  may,  if  he  will,  observe  the  type  in  the  making. 
With  very  few  exceptions,  it  is  worth  observing 
that  the  Society  drew  its  membership  in  the  be- 
ginning from  persons  who,  since  childhood,  had 
been  naturally  serious  and  devout.  The  reader  may 
be  interested,  if  he  will  glance  over  their  abstracts 
in  sequence,  to  see  how  few  are  the  conversions  to  Fox 's 
views,  of  nonreligious  persons,  or  of  those  previously 
steeped  in  vice  or  in  crime.  Such  a  man  as  John 
Bunyan23  was  not  drawn  to  them — in  fact,  he  pro- 
claims their  abominable  errors.  There  are  men  among 
the  Methodists  who  avow  that  they  had  little  or  no 
religious  feeling ;  who,  as  soldiers  or  sailors,  were  dis- 
sipated or  vicious,  drunkards  or  seducers;  such 
are  seldom  found  among  the  Friends.24  But  the 


152  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

religious  man  who  feels  he  is  not  religious  enough; 
the  good  person  tormented  by  a  sense  of  indwelling 
sin;  the  pious  nature  dissatisfied  with  its  present  be- 
lief;— to  these,  the  working  mysticism  offered  by 
George  Fox  was  a  perfect  solution  of  all  their  troubles. 
Their  literal  interpretation  of  the  text,  that  he  who 
humbleth  himself  shall  be  exalted,  formed  their  guid- 
ing principle.  The  plain  speech,  the  plain  dress,  were 
expressions  of  this  idea  of  passing  unnoticed  by  the 
world.25  One  man  sees  the  vision  of  a  lowly  people ; 26 
another  dreams  concerning  a  persecuted  people ; 2T 
both  join  the  Society.  Conversions  among  Friends 
on  the  whole  are  less  emotional  and  less  violent.  They 
have  not  to  create  a  new  sentiment  for  God,  but  only 
to  change  its  form  and  give  it  freer  rein.  Hence 
the  phrases,  "under  a  concern,"  "weights  and  exer- 
cises fell  upon  me,"  "I  was  moved  to  go"  here  and 
there;  phrases  which  rather  under-  than  overcharge 
their  emotional  conditions.28 

No  doubt  the  persecution  of  the  first  Friends,  their 
sufferings  and  imprisonments,  ridicule  by  families 
and  neighbors,  had  its  effect  in  heightening  their 
self-control  and  strengthening  their  philosophy.  No 
doubt,  living  as  they  did  close  to  the  source  of  a  vital 
emotion,  they  drank  deep  thereof  and  found  it  sus- 
taining and  pure.  Their  records,  as  a  whole,  are  on 
a  remarkably  high  ethical  level  for  persons  so  cir- 
cumstanced; their  mysticism  is  under  far  more  con- 
trol and  is  less  fanatical  than  one  would  have  sup- 
posed. Much  is  due  to  the  contagion  of  the  Quaker 
meeting,  where,  by  the  very  conditions  of  required 
passivity,  there  was  induced  in  these  groups  a  remark- 


THE  DOCUMENTS  153 

able  suggestibility.  In  meeting,  fell  those  "  weights 
and  exercises'';  in  meeting,  the  inward  voice  speaks 
and  the  heart  is  tendered.  Fox,  himself,  of  course, 
was  a  case  more  definitely  mystical ;  and  to  his  idea  he 
joined  a  fierce  vindictiveness  which  was  the  very  re- 
verse of  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit.29.  Any  analysis  of 
Fox  would  give  all  the  particulars  of  his  individuality 
in  this  respect;  the  reader  need  only  compare  him 
with  other  members  of  the  Society.  Such  natures  as 
Ellwood,  Woolman,  Howgill,  Chalkley,  or  the  entire 
family  of  the  Gurneys  of  Earlham,  appear  much  more 
typical  of  what  we  call  to-day  the  Quaker  spirit  than 
does  Fox. 

But  these  great  qualities  of  early  Quakerism  held  in 
them  certain  sources  of  weakness,  which  became  ap- 
parent so  soon  as  by  a  generation  or  so,  its  votaries 
were  removed  from  the  sources  of  their  faith.  In  the 
first  place,  the  tenets  of  their  belief,  if  logically  pur- 
sued, endangered  self-preservation.  Non-resistance 
tends  to  develop  inertia;  the  practical  condemnation 
of  art  gave  an  opportunity  for  the  self-destructive 
tendencies  of  studied  mental  inferiority.  There  is  no 
more  striking  proof  that  the  vitality  of  a  religious 
sentiment  is  highest  at  its  source,  that  this  vitality 
either  does  not  persist,  or  becomes  of  little  real  worth 
where  it  does  persist,  than  is  shown  by  the  later  his- 
tory of  the  Society  of  Friends. 

When  we  come  to  consider  Wesley  and  the  eight- 
eenth-century Evangelical  movement,  other  particu- 
lars are  presented  to  our  notice.  The  most  prom- 
inent characteristic  of  the  Quaker  attitude  toward 
God  is  love,  the  most  prominent  Methodist  characteris- 


154  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

tic  is  fear.  The  children  of  Israel  under  the  whip  of 
Pharaoh's  overseer  present  no  more  vivid  picture  of 
persecuted  terror  than  do  Wesley's  followers.  The 
only  questions  which  seem  vital  to  them  are  those  con- 
cerning Hell  and  Damnation;  there  is  present  in 
their  narratives  a  perpetual  undercurrent  of  gloomy 
excitement.  In  fact,  a  large  number  of  these  cases 
write  of  their  condition  before  their  conversion  in 
terms  suggesting  insanity.  ' '  I  was  as  one  distracted, ' ' 
says  John  Haime.  "I  fell  on  the  ground  groaning 
and  pulling  the  hairs  off  of  my  head,"  cries  Thomas 
Walsh.  "The  sweat  poured  from  off  me,"  write 
Whitefield  and  John  Nelson.  "I  seemed  to  be  hang- 
ing over  the  brink  of  hell,"  and  so  on.30  Visions  of 
Christ  on  the  cross 31  or  bathed  in  blood,32  of  a  dazzling 
light,33  of  a  strange  animal s*  or  a  strange  bird,35  with 
voices  whispering  of  evil 36  or  of  aid,  meet  us  on  every 
page.  The  relapses  and  reactions  are  uniformly  vio- 
lent ;  the  arc  of  the  pendulum  is  wide  and  its  swing  is 
extreme.  Whitefield,  in  this  regard,  is  really  more 
typical  than  either  of  the  Wesleys ;  for  the  latter  were 
by  temperament  much  less  emotional  than  most  of 
their  disciples.  Like  many  great  actors,  theirs  was 
the  gift  of  producing  a  higher  degree  of  excitement 
than  they  were  feeling.  Whitefield,37  a  dissipated 
youth,  "froward,"  as  he  declares,  "from  my  mother's 
womb";  loving  cards,  "affecting  to  look  rakish"; 
then  suddenly  overwhelmed  with  the  inward  dark- 
ness of  terror,  the  sweat  pouring  from  him  in  his 
agony  of  prayer,  is  more  typical  of  Methodism,  than 
the  scholarly  John  Wesley  or  the  gentle  Charles.38 
The  cultivated  youth,  the  intellectual  attitude  of  the 


THE  DOCUMENTS  155 

great  leader  of  Methodism,  remove  him,  as  a  person- 
ality, very  far  from  such  as  Whitefield,  or  Jaco,38  or 
Joyce.40  Even  in  the  darkest  time  preceding  his 
change  of  belief,  Wesley  cannot  find  that  he  has  been 
very  sinful;  only  that  he  has  been  unable  to  reduce 
himself  to  a  wholly  passive  state  of  obedience  to  God.41 
By  nature  he  was  spiritual  in  his  outlook ;  if  he  grows 
fearful,  it  is  because,  like  Suso,42  he  works  himself  de- 
liberately into  a  state  of  depression  and  alarm.  And 
when  at  last  he  found  himself ;  when  he  assumed  that 
task  the  magnitude  of  which  one  cannot  overestimate ; 
when,  physically  frail  and  always  ailing,  he  travelled, 
preaching  and  evangelizing  throughout  the  length  and 
breadth  of  England  without  rest  or  pause;  then  he 
obtained  a  complete  and  an  enduring  peace,  quieted 
and  calmed  by  finding  a  suitable  outlet  to  his  genius. 
The  fire  which  burned  in  his  frail  body  lit  a  thou- 
sand other  fires,  as  is  the  way  with  genius.  More  than 
any  other  modern  man,  he  moved  and  vitalized  the 
crowd  who  listened,  and  sent  them  home  to  new  suf- 
ferings, to  unimagined  terrors.  In  their  narratives 
they  tell  us  of  poignant  repentance,  of  groans 
and  sleeplessness,  fevers  and  sweats,  the  howls  of  fear, 
the  collapse  from  exhaustion.  Man  after  man,  stand- 
ing in  those  immense  crowds,  listens  and  is  touched; 
we  who  read,  may  almost  see  that  great  wave  of  emo- 
tion sweep  over  and  carry  on  with  it,  these  helpless 
human  atoms. 

The  wave  of  Methodism  did  not  spend  itself  in 
Great  Britain,  but  travelled  across  the  ocean  to  the 
United  States.  Here  it  found  conditions  especially 
favorable  to  the  spread  of  such  emotion.  A  people, 


156  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

who  had  succeeded  at  immense  cost  in  achieving  inde- 
pendence, during  these  first  years  seemed  to  have 
achieved  thereby  only  a  fresh  isolation.  Exhausted  by 
a  war  which  had  been  an  additional  strain  on  those 
pioneers  whose  very  existence  was  perpetual  war, 
many  families  ceased  to  look  hopefully  upon  the  fu- 
ture, and  relapsed  into  a  sort  of  listless  terror. 
Near  the  growing  cities,  a  fresh  and  animating  cur- 
rent of  vitality  stimulated  men  to  the  building  of 
the  new  Republic;  but  only  those  who  are  familiar 
with  the  personal  writings  of  pioneer  families  can 
appreciate  how  little  this  new  hope  held  for  their 
solitary  lives.  The  situation  was  as  favorable  as  that 
in  the  Middle  Ages  for  the  revival  or  recrudescence 
of  emotional  religious  experience.  The  heredity  of  the 
pioneers,  their  surroundings,  their  traditions,  all  pre- 
disposed them  to  a  passionate  interest  in  the  subject  of 
religion.  There  will  be  later  occasion  to  quote  in  detail 
from  Jonathan  Edwards'  " Narrative  of  the  Great 
Revival  in  New  England," 4S  which  was  the  most  pow- 
erful manifestation  of  this  movement.  All  sects  re- 
ceived an  immense  impulse,  new  communities  were 
constantly  being  formed ;  and  new  revelations  received 
in  the  wilderness. 

The  Mormon  movement  (which  we  cannot  omit  to 
note  as  a  minor  group)  was"  an  offshoot  of  the  Great 
Revival.  The  family  of  Joseph  Smith,  senior,  after 
wandering  through  Vermont,  settled  in  Ontario 
County,  near  Niagara.44  This  district  was  still  close 
enough  to  the  remnants  of  the  Iroquois  tribes  for 
dread  of  them  to  be  an  important  psychological  factor 
in  the  life  of  the  Smiths.  The  whole  frontier  had,  in 


THE  DOCUMENTS  157 

truth,  been  ravaged  by  the  Indians  but  two  years  pre- 
viously. In  addition  to  the  hardships  of  the 
frontier  life,  the  severe  winters,  the  scanty  food, 
and  the  incessant  labor,  there  was  this  active,  un- 
remitting, vigilant  terror  of  the  Indians.  Nor  were 
the  Smiths  alone  under  the  obsession  of  this  dread, 
which  entered  into  and  became  a  part  of  their  reli- 
gious fears ;  it  is  noted  in  many  another  record.  The 
Iroquois,  painted,  bestial,  incredibly  cruel,  incredibly 
cunning,  is  a  figure  which  comes  nearer  to  a  realization 
of  the  devil  than  any  other  on  earth;  just  as  the  ex- 
perience of  his  captives  must  have  come  near  to  the 
realization  of  hell.  This  fear  of  hell  and  the  Indian, 
this  linking  of  these  two  ideas,  beset  the  imagina- 
tions of  the  pioneer  children,  stamping  them  with  an 
ineffaceable  impression.  The  same  combination  made 
the  Salem  witch- trials  yet  more  hideous;  and  it  ac- 
counts for  much  beside  Joseph  Smith's  vivid  picture 
of  the  * '  Lamanites  as  the  Devil 's  children. ' ' 

Historians  of  Mormonism  emphasize  the  multiplica- 
tion of  sects,  the  general  religious  ferment,  which  sur- 
round the  youth  of  the  founder.45  Smith  himself 
calls  the  place  he  lived  in,  "the  burnt-over  district." 
It  had  been  shaken  by  Methodist,  Baptist,  and  Pres- 
byterian agitation;  the  Restorationists,  the  Pilgrims, 
the  Shakers,  had  wandered  through  it  to  disappear  in 
the  West.48  The  "revival-meeting"  (that  uncon- 
sciously accurate  phrase!)  had  come  into  fashion,  con- 
fusing and  bewildering  simple-minded  and  pious 
youth.47  For  Joseph  Smith  to  receive  a  revelation, 
and  to  found  a  new  sect,  was  therefore  entirely  in 
order  with  surrounding  circumstances.  Our  mention 


158  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

of  his  personality  and  psychology  in  their  proper  place 
will  show  that  these  were  likewise  entirely  in  accord. 
He  was  at  first,  he  says,  drawn  to  Methodism;  then 
swerved  toward  the  Presbyterians ;  and  his  first  vision 
came  as  an  answer  to  this  uncertainty. 

Mormonism  serves  a  definite  purpose,  and  must 
not  be  omitted  from  a  survey  of  the  group,  be- 
cause of  its  nearness  to  our  own  time;  but  that 
very  nearness  has  deprived  it  of  certain  typical 
features.  The  calibre  of  the  Prophet's  mind,  the 
style  of  his  revelations,  show  a  marked  deteriora- 
tion in  the  quality  of  this  particular  revival. 
Smith's  biographer  comments  that  "Joseph's  first 
prophecy,  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  concerned  Deacon 
Jessup  and  the  widow's  cow"; 48  and  there  were  reve- 
lations concerning  farms,  and  boarding-houses,  Emma 
Smith  and  so  forth.  There  is  even  sheer  nonsense ; — 
"And  they  had  horses  and  asses,  and  there  were 
elephants,  and  cureloms  and  cumoms," 49  which  last 
beasts,  Mr.  Eiley  scruples  not  to  class  with  the  Jabber- 
wock.  But  because  we  observe  in  this  outbreak  signs 
of  distinct  degeneration,  vulgarity,  charlatanry,  and 
cheapness, — almost  beyond  any  point  yet  reached  by 
human  delusion, — we  must  not,  therefore,  consider  it 
as  something  entirely  different.  It  is  hard  for  our 
minds  not  to  reject  with  disgust  any  possibility  which 
would  link  "peep-stone  Smith, "  and  his  revelations 
concerning  boarding-houses,  with  the  elegant  mind  of 
a  Wesley,  or  the  splendid  fire  and  penetration  of  a 
Luther,  or  a  Fox.  Yet,  if  we  look  more  closely,  we 
see  that  this  is  wrong.  The  wave  is  moving  through 
particles  of  muddy  water,  but  it  is  the  same  wave. 


THE  DOCUMENTS  159 

The  intensity  of  these  narratives,  the  movement  of 
these  communities  under  the  influence  of  emotion,  are 
sufficient  to  bear  witness  to  their  real,  if  often  piteous, 
sincerity.  By  contrast,  the  concerns  and  exercises  of 
the  Friends  seem  certainly  less  heightened.  Yet  no 
Mormon,  and  few  Methodist  confessions  have  the 
literary  accent  which  one  may  enjoy  in  the  first 
Quakers,  nor  have  they  that  intense,  poetic  phrase- 
ology. 

All  these  groups  regarded  death  in  the  light  of  a 
spiritual  drama,  during  which  the  chief  actor  must 
undergo  every  possible  emotional  influence  in  order 
to  make  his  ending  the  culmination  of  all  previous 
religious  excitements.  James  Lackington,  during  a 
mood  of  reaction,  writes  of  his  wife,  that  "she  died  in 
a  fit  of  enthusiastic  rant,  surrounded  by  several 
Methodistical  preachers. ' ' 50  To  Mrs.  Fry,  her  sis- 
ter 's  demise  was  "a  sweet  time."51  Here  are  op- 
posite points  of  view  which  yet  indicate  like 
conditions.  It  will  not  be  forgotten  how,  at  his 
mother's  passing,  Augustin  checked  all  noisy  grief. 
He  writes,  "My  own  childish  feeling,  which  was 
through  the  youthful  voice  of  my  heart  finding 
escape  in  tears,  was  restrained  and  silenced.  .  .  . 
For  we  did  not  consider  it  fitting  to  celebrate  that 
funeral  with  tearful  plaints  and  groanings."  His 
friend  Evodius  taking  up  the  psalter,  the  mourners 
thereupon  joined  in  the  psalm.52  Modern  pietist  sects 
echo  the  ideas  and  practice  of  the  primitive  Church  be- 
fore the  dogmatic  ritual  had  chastened  and  controlled 
them. 

The  student,  considering  the  appended  data,  will 


160  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

no  doubt  observe  that  in  their  composition  the  Quaker 
and  Methodist  records  testify  not  to  fortuitous  circum- 
stance, nor  to  individual  caprice,  but  to  the  operation 
of  a  general  human  law.  According  to  such  law,  all 
emotions — and  especially  those  which  are  novel  to  the 
subject — tend  to  express  themselves  and  be  communi- 
cated in  writing  or  speech.  The  persistence  of  reli- 
gious movements  is  dependent  upon  this  law;  since 
but  for  the  relief  afforded  by  self -study  and  confes- 
sion, the  original  impetus  given  to  the  movement  by 
emotion  must  soon  have  died  away.  These  rows  of 
dun-colored  volumes,  therefore,  shed  much  light  upon 
certain  complex  and  obscure  processes  of  the  modern 
man;  so  that  what  before  seemed  futile  as  the  dust 
becomes  charged  with  vital  significance.  Many  of  us 
have  looked  upon  the  Sunday  School  autobiography 
(as  we  may  call  it)  with  wonder  that  it  should  exist,  or 
that,  existing,  it  should  differ  so  little  from  its  fellows. 
Few  realize  that  it  is  this  very  spontaneous  similarity 
which  makes  it  so  valuable.  A  conchologist  may  make 
little  out  of  a  single  shell,  but  bring  him  fifty,  and  he 
will  describe  and  classify  the  species.  These  memoirs 
share  in  common  characteristics  that  enable  the  stu- 
dent to  determine  the  extent,  depth,  and  quality  of 
the  feeling  which  inspired  them;  together  with  their 
difference  from  similar  manifestations,  their  varia- 
tion from  other  groups. 

Heading  these  documents,  the  student  gains  a  con- 
viction of  the  identity  of  religious  emotion  under  all 
circumstances,  at  all  times,  in  all  nations  and  natures. 
Each  protest  of  originality,  each  effort  of  the  subject 
to  be  himself,  forms  another  link  in  the  human  chain. 


THE  DOCUMENTS  161 

Each  convert,  in  turn,  cries  with  Rousseau,  "au  moins, 
je  suis  autre."  Each  convert  is  by  that  very  protest 
linked  to  every  other  convert;  while  the  very  repeti- 
tion is  warrant  of  the  identity  of  the  impulse.  The 
first  effect  of  these  bubbles  of  individuality,  rising  and 
subsiding  again  into  the  whirlpool  of  life,  is  to  impress 
one  with  the  uniformity  of  their  cause. 

The  confessant,  telling  of  his  life  and  his  sins,  seek- 
ing to  kindle  others  with  the  fire  in  his  own  soul,  is 
making  a  passionate  effort  for  individualism.  He 
does  not  realize  that  when  you  read  him  with  eighty  or 
more  fellow-Methodists  or  Quakers,  his  individuality 
disappears  almost  as  completely  as  though  he  were  a 
Hebrew  chronicler  in  the  earliest  days.  His  actual 
religious  idea — no  matter  how  great — will  never  be 
found  to  stand  quite  alone.  Thus  Jesus,  Buddha, 
Mahomet,  Augustin,  Calvin,  Luther,  touch  hands 
across  the  globe  and  across  the  ages.  Each  has  dipped 
his  cup  in  the  same  spring. 

The  common  identity  of  the  essential  human  emo- 
tions has  never  been  established  more  forcibly  than  by 
a  study  of  the  religious  confession.  We  think  always, 
as  did  Sir  Thomas  Browne,  that  "  'tis  opportune  to 
look  back  upon  old  times  and  contemplate  our  fore- 
fathers. Great  examples  grow  thin  and  to  be  fetched 
from  the  passed  world. ' ' 53  Yet  these  sentences  were 
written  in  the  seventeenth  century;  and  before  some 
of  the  greatest  examples  in  literature,  at  least,  were 
born. 

The  lesser  religious  cases  are  linked  with  the  greater, 
and  the  slow  processes  of  evolution  cause  but  slight 
changes  over  the  centuries.  Lay  Augustin  side  by 


162  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

side  with  Hurrell  Froude,  or  Amiel,  and  we  shall  note 
the  difference.  The  quality  of  religious  feeling  is 
higher  and  more  beautiful  and  more  intense  in  the 
Bishop  of  Hippo.  Apart  from  genius  this  is  natural ; 
he  is  closer  to  the  source  of  his  emotion.  The  intro- 
spection is  more  developed  in  the  two  moderns;  in 
whom  it  has  become  a  conscious,  no  longer  an  uncon- 
scious factor.  It  affects  their  composition  and  it  is 
systematized  by  them  in  a  way  unknown  to  Augustin. 
These  three  minds  differ  widely  in  idea,  in  force,  and 
in  intellectual  quality;  yet  all  three  are  recognizably 
permeated  by  the  same  emotion. 

There  are  qualities  in  the  religious  confession,  how- 
ever, which  do  not  remain  stable;  which  shift  with 
every  age ;  and  whose  presence  or  absence  affects  very 
greatly  the  total  impression  made  by  the  confessant. 
The  most  important  of  these  is  candour.  Now,  stand- 
ards of  candour  have  changed  very  much,  and  de- 
veloped in  accordance  with  the  development  of 
men's  powers  of  introspection.  The  deeper  a  self- 
observer  looks  within,  the  more  he  tries  to  see,  the 
vaster  appears  to  him  that  cloudy  country  of  self. 
He  is  like  the  traveller  on  foot,  to  whom  at  every  mile 
the  land  of  his  pilgrimage  seems  to  increase  in  ex- 
tent. According  to  the  ideas  of  his  age,  Augustin  is 
uncommonly  candid,  but  to  our  minds  his  candour 
is  perforce  incomplete.  It  was  impossible  for  Augus- 
tin, like  Amiel,  "to  hear  his  heart  beating  and  his  life 
passing. ' ' 64  One  of  the  chief  reasons  for  this  is  that 
he  was  the  possessor  to  a  high  degree  of  what  Amiel 
had  not,  namely,  "that  energetic  subjectivity  which 
has  faith  in  itself. ' '  Genius  though  he  was,  his  intro- 


THE  DOCUMENTS  163 

spective  powers  were  rudimentary  in  certain  respects, 
compared  to  what  such  powers  have  since  become.  He 
told  truly  what  he  knew,  and  what  he  knew  is  just  as 
important  now  as  when  he  told  it.  Since  Augustin, 
we  have  been  led  to  know  more  and  more;  until  we 
know  now  much  that  he  never  dreamed  of;  and  our 
candour  is  greater  in  proportion. 

At  all  times,  candour  is  a  variable  and  an  uncertain 
quality  in  the  confessant.  Its  limitations  are  also  the 
limitations  of  temperament;  and  in  this  regard,  the 
difference  among  writers  is  amazing.  Intelligences 
accustomed  to  a  developed  introspection  find  no  diffi- 
culty in  describing  what  other  minds  could  not  even 
think.  What  A  will  regard  as  a  simple  statement  of 
fact,  may  appear  to  B  as  an  arduous  piece  of  self- 
revelation.  An  enquiry  considered  by  C  as  scientific 
and  legitimate,  and  by  him  satisfied  with  the  minute- 
ness of  a  medical  report,  will  seem  to  D  an  outrageous 
public  glance  into  the  private  chambers  of  life.  New- 
man begins  the  " Apologia"  with  an  accent  of  solem- 
nity, as  if  about  to  wrest  from  his  soul  a  sacredly  in- 
timate revelation.  What  he  tells  us,  after  this  pre- 
amble, is  his  change  of  creed,  his  views  about  guardian- 
angels,  the  Tractarians  and  the  Monophysites.  Ob- 
viously, such  matters  are  sacredly  intimate  to  him. 
His  real  springs  of  thought  and  action  are  studiously 
concealed ;  and  thus  his  candour  is  seen  to  be  as  slight 
as  his  introspective  power.  The  reader  feels  that 
Newman  would  have  found  it  impossible  even  to  un- 
derstand such  a  sentence  as  Augustin  wrote  about  giv- 
ing up  his  mistress,55  for  he  had  no  such  gift  of  accu- 
rate self -observation.  "I  never  work  better/'  ob- 


164  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

serves  the  candid  Martin  Luther,  "than  when  I  am 
inspired  by  anger  ...  for  then  my  whole  tempera- 
ment is  quickened,  my  understanding  sharpened. ' ' 56 
The  ability  to  make  such  self -study  as  this  is  rare; 
and  it  is  of  particular  value  to  the  confessant. 
Cardan,  Rousseau,  Alline,  and  even  George  Miiller, 
and  John  Trevor,  gain  in  use  and  dignity,  easing  their 
souls  by  the  acknowledgment  of  vices  and  habits  which 
with  many  persons  never  even  take  on  the  crystalliza- 
tion of  words.  Their  candour  is  a  part  of  the  special 
discipline  of  truth. 

De  Quincey  has  remarked  that  some  persons  have  it 
not  in  their  power  to  be  confidential;  they  are  really 
incapable  of  piercing  the  haze  which  envelops  their 
secret  springs  of  action.57  Naturally,  therefore,  their 
lack  of  introspection  limits  the  extent  of  their  candour. 
If  a  man  has  the  ability  to  look  deep  within  him- 
self, then  merely  to  speak  of  that  which  lies  near 
to  the  surface,  cannot  seem  unduly  frank;  whereas, 
if  he  lack  this  ability,  then  to  lay  bare  any  fact  lying 
beneath  the  topmost  layer  of  convention,  must  seem 
unduly  frank.  The  degree  of  unreserve  in  a  self- 
portrayal  becomes  a  question  of  individual  tempera- 
ment, and  the  revelations  resulting  from  this  unre- 
serve, should  in  truth  be  so  regarded  whenever  they 
are  brought  into  contact  with  prevalent  standards  of 
taste.  Such  standards  alter  from  age  to  age,  if  not 
from  generation  to  generation ;  and  yet  it  is  by  them 
the  confessant  is  apt  to  be  held  to  a  final  judgment. 
Moreover,  standards  of  taste  often  prevail  in  unex- 
pected directions,  guiding  the  confessant  himself. 
What  else  makes  the  "Spiritual  Diary"  of  Sweden- 


THE  DOCUMENTS  165 

borg  so  vile,  and  the  "De  Profundis"  of  Wilde  so 
beautiful  ?  Each  is  perfectly  candid ;  and  the  matter 
confessed  in  both  is  piteous  and  horrible.  But  the 
emphasis,  the  balance,  the  standard  of  taste,  is  pre- 
served in  one  and  not  in  the  other ;  so  that  the  reader 
may  read  one  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  and  the  other 
with  a  sense  of  nausea. 

Balance  in  candour  is  less  apt  to  be  maintained  in 
the  religious  than  in  the  secular  confession.  Humil- 
ity being  to  the  confessant  his  first  need,  he  is  un- 
questionably apt  to  dwell  upon  his  pre-converted  state 
of  sin.  He  will  thus  often  be  candid  only  about  the 
period  before  conversion.  George  Miiller's  early  im- 
moralities are  peculiarly  shocking;58  his  candour 
about  them  is  disagreeably  complete;  but  once  con- 
verted, we  hear  nothing  more  from  him  of  a  personal 
kind.  Biographers  of  Alexander  Pope  have  found 
him  insincere,59  but  what  a  beautiful  example  of  well- 
balanced  candour  he  gave  us,  when  he  declared:  "I 
writ  because  it  amused  me;  I  corrected  because  it 
was  as  pleasant  to  me  to  correct  as  to  write. ' '  In  fine, 
the  intellectual  or  scientific  impulse  to  candour  is  even 
greater  than  the  religious  or  emotional.  The  intellec- 
tual reverence  for  the  fact  is  as  intense  as  the  religious 
reverence  for  the  idea.  Therefore  to  many  minds, 
the  great  self -studies,  the  work  of  Herbert  Spencer,  of 
Cardan,  Cellini,  Rousseau,  and  Mill,  contain  quali- 
ties seriously  appealing  as  the  work  of  Augustin, 
or  Teresa,  or  George  Fox.  These  readers  will  be,  in 
general,  thoughtful  and  unemotional  minds,  those  to 
whom  the  service  of  the  truth  means  in  itself  the 
service  of  God.  Reading  Augustin  may  lead  one  to 


166  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

prayer  and  praise;  reading  Rousseau  leads  one  to 
think  and  tremble.  Seriousness  and  sincerity  are 
often  in  themselves  religious  qualities,  and  the  reader 
is  awed  in  the  presence  of  a  really  elevated  candour, 
no  matter  what  the  cause. 

For  these,  if  for  no  other  reasons,  an  especial  in- 
terest is  attached  to  those  records  of  self-experiment 
written  in  a  particular  style  and  for  a  particular  pur- 
pose. Space  forbids  that  all  of  these  should  be  listed 
here,  while  a  lack  of  human  interest  in  most  of  them 
renders  it  unnecessary.  But  there  are  some  instances 
which  may  not  be  omitted,  of  men  who  minutely  note 
the  result  in  themselves  of  an  illness,  or  of  a  cure,  or 
of  a  condition,  or  of  a  scientific  experiment.  De  Quin- 
cey  is  a  case  in  point.60  Insanity  is  noted  with  care 
by  B.  R.  Haydon  61  and  Clifford  W.  Beers.62  Andre 
de  Lordes,63  the  author  of  "Theatre  d 'Epouvante, ' ' 
gives  a  careful  analysis  of  his  early  preoccupation  with 
the  emotion  of  fear.64  Neurasthenia  has  lately  formed 
the  subject  for  similar  self -studies,  all  more  or  less 
unsuccessful.  The  idea  of  scientific  self-observation 
goes  well  back  into  the  eighteenth  century.  Hibbert 
carefully  notes  the  narrative  of  Nicolai,65  a  bookseller 
of  Berlin,  who,  during  an  attack  of  bilious  fever,  no- 
ticed that  his  dreams  grew  so  vivid  as  to  partake  of  the 
nature  of  visions.  Further  illness  and  anxiety  turned 
them  into  visions  altogether,  which  were  systematically 
studied  by  himself  and  his  doctor  until  he  was  cured. 
Nicolai,  though  very  much  frightened  at  times,  is  on 
the  whole  wonderfully  calm.  "Had  I  not  been  able 
to  distinguish  phantasms,"  he  writes,  "I  must  have 
been  insane  .  .  .  but  I  considered  them  what  they 


THE  DOCUMENTS  167 

were,  namely,  the  effects  of  disease  and  so  made  them 
subservient  to  my  observations."  This  is  a  remark- 
ably strong-minded  person,  and  one  wonders  what  the 
end  of  his  life  brought  forth.  Nicolai  had  an  imita- 
tor in  a  man  who,  upon  an  attack  of  inflammatory 
fever,  accurately  transcribed  his  hallucinations,  which 
were  supernatural  in  character.66 

The  famous  Dr.  Pordage,67  rector  of  Bradfield, 
Berks,  on  the  contrary,  had  a  very  mystical  and  in- 
genious theory  to  explain  the  visions  which  worried 
him  in  the  night.  He  believed  that  the  "Gyant  with 
a  great  sword  in  his  hand, ' '  and  the  dragon  with  fiery 
eyes,  were  especial  evidences  of  God's  interest  and 
favor.  They  might,  he  thought, ' '  have  caused  a  great 
distemper/'  had  not  angels  in  person  come  to  his 
rescue.  The  doctor's  explanation  seems  to  us  to-day 
quite  as  fantastic  as  his  apparitions.  Cardan  (to 
whom  one  must  needs  return  for  all  these  matters) 
had  a  plentiful  experience  of  visual  and  auditory 
phenomena;  and  many  theories  for  their  explana- 
tion.68 In  his  turn  he  is  cited  by  the  learned  Dr. 
John  Beaumont,69  who  himself  underwent  the  most 
remarkable  attention  from  spirits  of  all  sorts.70  Their 
first  visitation  followed  hard  upon  an  illness;  the 
second  was  some  years  later.  There  were  visions  and 
lit'tle  bells  ringing  in  his  ear,  which  he  seems  to  have 
taken  calmly  and  describes  carefully.  Many  scattered 
instances  of  this  kind  occur  in  the  literature  of  auto- 
biography.71 

The  self -experimentalists  form  another  group  in  this 
particular  connection.  Charles  Babbage,72  the  mathe- 
matician, roasted  himself  in  an  oven.  Various  per- 


168  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

sons  note  the  effects  of  ether  or  chloroform.73  "Tre- 
lat  cites  the  author  St.  Edme,  who  put  himself  to 
death  and  who  minutely  observed  the  last  impressions 
of  his  last  night/'74  There  is  extant  a  like  narra- 
tive from  a  Corsican  named  Luc-Antonio  Viterbi.75 
No  less  a  person  than  Sir  Humphry  Davy 76  wrote  a 
monograph  "on  the  effects  of  nitrous-oxide  gas"  tried 
upon  his  own  person.  The  result  was  of  some  value  in 
showing  how  his  spirits  were  thereby  heightened,  and 
how  images  arose  and  turned  into  delusions. 

The  reader  will  not  have  failed  to  remark  the  seri- 
ousness with  which  these  experiments  are  undertaken. 
It  is,  indeed,  their  only  excuse.  * '  Agir  et  ecrire  comme 
en  la  presence  perpetuelle  d'un  spectateur  indifferent 
et  railleur,"  as  Taine  wrote  of  Merimee,  "etre  soi- 
meme  ce  spectateur";77 — this  defines  the  danger  in 
self -observation.  This  attitude  is  the  sterile  Byron- 
ism,  the  "maladie  personnelle, "  which  has  been  named 
as  "the  great  plague  of  our  spiritual  life."78 

Undertaken  from  this  cynical  point  of  view,  self- 
study  becomes  worse  than  useless;  and  is  open  to  all 
the  objections  which  have  been  urged  against  it.  The 
service  of  Truth,  whether  one  be  enrolled  under  the 
banner  of  science  or  of  religion,  is  the  most  important 
task  known  to  man.  The  mere  cynical  self -analyzer 
is  rarer  than  many  critics  would  have  us  believe.  He 
may,  in  fact,  be  left  wholly  aside,  as  we  proceed  in 
our  attempt  to  examine  and  to  classify  that  material 
which  the  sincere  servants  of  truth  and  confessants 
of  religious  experience  place  at  our  disposal. 


V 

THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  I 


I.  Parentage:  Heredity:  Education. 

II.  Health — poor. 

III.  Health— good. 

IY.  Pathological  records. 

V.  Criminal  records. 

VI.  Witchcraft  records — possession  by  devils. 

VII.  Contagion. 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:   I 

FROM  the  moment  that  a  study  of  groups  has  es- 
tablished the  common  identity  of  their  emotional  re- 
ligious experiences,  much  is  felt  to  have  been  gained. 
The  student  is  thereby  enabled  to  move  upon  broader 
lines,  and  to  consider  the  various  aspects  of  the  sub- 
ject as  though  they  belonged  to  something  homo- 
geneous. No  longer  is  it  needful  to  differentiate 
between  the  feelings  of  the  Methodist,  the  Catholic, 
or  the  Friend.  Each  believes  that  he  upholds,  as  a 
torch,  the  flame  of  Truth;  yet  to  us,  on  beholding 
them  all  from  the  same  distance,  one  star  differs 
little  from  another  star  in  glory. 

There  is  another  point  of  view,  from  which  the  data 
appear  as  more  significant  than  had  at  first  been 
anticipated.  No  one  studying  the  appended  cases  can 
fail  to  note  that  they  mark  the  difference  between  the 
emotional  process  involving  revelation  and  faith,  and 
the  intellectual  process  involving  the  formulation  of 
a  dogmatic  belief.  "Whereas  the  first  experience  is 
fundamental  and  universal,  the  second  has  ever  been 
to  a  large  degree  factitious  and  circumstantial.  That 
feeling  which  leads  a  man  to  seek  for  a  fresh  religious 
inspiration,  does  not  of  necessity  entirely  govern  the 
shape  which  his  belief  will  eventually  take.  Many 

171 


172  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

influences  combine  to  determine  his  choice  of  a  sect, 
or  of  a  dogma,  which  influences  have  had  absolutely 
no  part  in  the  great  initial  impulse  of  his  religious 
need. 

Scientists  have,  of  course,  commented  long  ere  now 
upon  this  fact,  according  to  their  several  investiga- 
tions. Delacroix  has  pertinently  noted  the  identity  of 
the  formulae  of  mysticism,  an  identity  persisting,  what- 
ever the  variation  in  the  creed  of  the  mystic.  "Les 
mystiques/'  he  wrote,  "separes  par  le  temps,  Tespace, 
le  milieu  historique,  forment  un  groupe,  et  leur  ex- 
perience se  rattache  a  un  meme  type  psychologique. ' ' x 

But  the  facts  go  beyond  mysticism ;  they  include  all 
religious  experience.  The  form  which  emotional  ex- 
perience takes  in  the  human  soul,  the  process  which  it 
must  follow,  are  governed  by  basic  laws  of  heredity, 
physique,  and  temperament.  The  form  which  intellec- 
tual belief  takes  in  the  human  mind,  is  governed  by 
much  narrower  social  and  artificial  conditions.  The 
age  a  man  dwells  in,  the  society  wherein  he  plays  his 
part,  affect  the  latter  process;  often  he  elects  to 
join  some  congenial  group  less  because  of  religious 
interests  than  because  of  social  interests.  The  ques- 
tion of  affiliation  with  a  special  group  or  sect  may  be 
due  to  environment  or  to  a  reaction  from  environ- 
ment.2 There  is  a  very  wide  diversity  in  the  articles 
of  faith  subscribed  to,  let  us  say,  by  the  Gottesfreund, 
the  Scots  Presbyterian,  and  the  Quaker;  yet  who 
will  deny  the  identity  of  the  feeling  in  the  soul  of 
Suso  and  Luther,  Haliburton  and  George  Fox?  It  is 
not  even  necessary  to  confine  the  comparison  to  the 
sects  of  Christianity  alone.  From  Al-Ghazzali  the 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  I  173 

Arabian,  to  Uriel  d'Acosta  the  Portuguese  rJew,  the 
same  process  is  at  work,  identical  in  manifestation, 
identical  in  progressive  symptoms. 

Differences  in  creed  dwindle  to  a  very  unimportant 
place  in  the  scheme  of  any  investigation.  The  subject 
may  be  a  Mormon,  a  Christian  Scientist,  or  a  Buddhist ; 
either  because  his  parents  were,  or  because  they  were 
not.  Once  the  heat  of  emotion  is  passed,  social  pres- 
sure aids  in  the  crystallization  of  an  evolved  belief. 
The  man  has  undergone  certain  feelings,  and  from 
them  has  drawn  certain  inductions  leading  in  the  di- 
rection of  certain  opinions.  Human-like,  he  seeks  to 
ally  these  opinions  with  other  similar  views,  both  to 
strengthen  them  and  to  make  them  prevail.  What 
he  does  not  usually  recognize,  but  what  we  at  this  dis- 
tance recognize  for  him,  is  that  the  emotions  which 
gave  birth  to  his  opinions  are  not  peculiar  to  him- 
self, nor  to  his  sect,  nor  to  his  nation,  nor  to  his  race. 

The  subject,  in  fact,  frequently  confuses  the  effect 
with  the  cause.  Just  as  the  lover  thinks  that  it  is  be- 
cause his  beloved  outvies  all  other  women,  that  he 
loves  as  no  man  ever  loved,  so  the  religious  confessant 
thinks  that  it  is  the  importance  of  what  he  thinks  and 
believes  that  causes  him  to  suffer  so  intensely  or  to 
rejoice  so  exceedingly.  The  fact  is  he  would  suffer 
and  rejoice  to  the  same  degree,  no  matter  in  what  port 
his  troubled  mind  finally  decided  to  drop  anchor. 
The  emotion  is  human,  basic,  and  universal;  the  par- 
ticular dogma  is  rather  its  result  than  its  cause. 

If  there  is  one  good  office  which  the  reading  of  all 
these  lives  may  do,  it  is  to  eliminate  the  idea  that  any- 
one creed  has  a  right  to  hold  itself  as  more  religious 


174  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

than  any  other  creed.  It  is  not  religious  feeling 
which  guides  a  man  in  the  choice  of  a  Church ;  rather 
is  it  his  intellectual  conception  of  the  relation  to  con- 
duct of  the  emotion  he  is  undergoing  or  has  just  un- 
dergone. This  is  proven  by  the  fact  that  not  one 
case  of  religious  inspiration  can  be  found  in  one  sect 
which  has  not  its  exact  parallel  in  another  sect.  The 
matter  of  all  men's  views  is  as  diverse  and  fluctuating 
as  the  matter  of  their  feelings  is  constant  and  stable, 
therefore  it  is  with  this  stable  matter  of  feeling  that 
we  have  chiefly  to  do. 

The  data  provided  in  these  cases  are  to  be  con- 
sidered as  uniform,  and  to  be  classified  according  to 
human  nature  and  to  psychology.  They  may  be 
roughly  divided  under  two  main  heads,  the  personal 
and  the  purely  religious.  The  latter  is  apt  to  be  fur- 
nished us  in  a  confusing  fulness,  so  that  it  is  often 
hard  to  sift  the  trivial  from  the  important  features  of 
the  case.  The  former,  on  the  contrary,  is  frequently 
scanty  and  is  sometimes  omitted  entirely.  The  reason 
for  this  will  be  readily  understood. 

Even  so  late  as  the  eighteenth  century  the  pious 
and  uplifted  person  regarded  his  own  piety  and  ex- 
altation as  a  something  wholly  "not  himself,"  hav- 
ing no  relation  to  his  daily  life  and  habits,  or 
to  hygiene,  or  social  conditions,  or  to  heredity  or 
health.  Indeed,  when  we  realize  how  completely  this 
was  true,  and  frequently  is  still  true,  we  marvel  that 
the  confessant  gives  us  even  so  much  information. 
An  historian  of  the  modern  scientific  spirit,  to-day  be- 
come as  dominant  a  quality  as  ever  was  the  credulity 
of  the  Middle  Ages,  will  no  doubt  observe  its  en- 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  I  175 

trance  into  the  religious  narrative,  in  the  modern 
tendency  to  insert  therein  any  material  elucidating  the 
personality  or  the  situation  of  the  author.  Unconscious 
of  its  value,  unaware,  as  it  would  seem,  that  accuracy 
of  detail  had  any  bearing  on  his  particular  religious 
problem,  the  confessant,  about  the  middle  of  the  six- 
teenth century,  began  to  systematize  his  record — to 
abandon  his  medieval  vagueness — and  to  open  the 
work  with  an  account  of  his  parents  and  his  infancy, 
his  health  and  his  education — furnishing  us,  in  a  word, 
with  the  data  of  his  case.  Should  any  one  desire  con- 
crete illustrations  of  the  change  in  manner,  let  him 
compare  the  writings  of  Thomas  a  Kempis,3  the  abbot 
Herman,4  Juliana  of  Norwich,  Angela  da  Foligno, 
Gertrude  of  Eisleben,  Mechtilde,  and  so  on,  with 
similar  confessions  by  Carlo  da  Sezze,  Teresa,  Jeanne 
de  la  Mothe-Guyon,  or  the  memoiristes  of  Port-Royal. 
The  difference  is  not  merely  literary, — for  the  earlier 
records  are  extremely  diffuse, — but  lies  in  a  new  per- 
ception of  the  value  of  all  the  facts  when  presenting 
a  case. 

Single  writers,  scattered  through  the  Middle  Ages, 
are  not  lacking  in  this  perception,  which  indicates 
their  distinction  of  mind.  Augustin  had  it  as  a  part 
of  his  genius.  It  will  be  found  in  the  abbot  Guibert 
de  Nogent,  slightly  in  Abelard,  and  strongly  in  that 
remarkable  woman  Hildegarde  of  Bingen,5  whose  can- 
dour received  as  much  contemptuous  misunderstanding 
as  ever  that  of  Cardan  or  Rousseau.  Her  scientific 
tendency  is  explained  by  her  genuinely  scientific  mind, 
for  she  was  a  distinguished  botanist  and  physician. 
When  we  read  to-day  her  conscientious  endeavor  to 


176  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

present  and  to  understand  her  own  case,  we  are  in- 
clined to  agree  with  Michelet  that  she  showed  ' '  the  last 
gleam  of  good  sense' '6  in  her  age,  and  not  with  the 
later  critic  who  dismisses  her  as  ' '  a  mad  old  woman. ' ' 7 
Since  nothing  during  the  Middle  Ages  so  quickly 
brought  upon  one  the  stigma  of  insanity,  as  scientific 
attainments  or  ambitions  of  any  sort,  it  is  not  to  be 
wondered  at  that  Hildegarde  stands  sui  generis.  Re- 
ligious dogma,  one  must  not  forget,  was  in  those  days 
a  matter  not  to  be  examined  or  questioned,  but  to  be 
accepted  and  adored. 

For  the  bulk  of  our  personal  data,  therefore,  we 
are  largely  dependent  upon  the  documents  of  later 
times.  The  purely  religious  data  are  naturally  com- 
posed of  the  mystical  and  the  non-mystical.  Whether 
the  latter,  indeed,  comes  within  the  purview  of  this 
study  is  a  question  for  further  discussion.  Since  our 
plan  is  inductive,  it  follows  that  definitions  should 
come  last  of  all;  and  to  separate  the  mystical  data 
from  the  non-mystical  appears  to  be  largely  an  affair 
of  definition.  Should  we  try  to  solve  the  problem 
by  a  change  of  names,  and  term  our  matter  normal 
and  abnormal,  our  task  is  no  easier,  for  the  criterion 
by  which  we  judge  the  norm  shifts  with  the  centuries, 
and  often  with  the  decades.  The  non-mystical  is  not 
necessarily  always  the  normal,  though  our  material- 
istic age  prefers  to  think  so.  It  seems  wiser,  there- 
fore, for  the  purpose  of  present  investigation  to  take 
these  terms  simply  at  their  face  value  and  so  to  make 
use  of  them.  Through  these  two  main  doorways  all 
religious  emotion  has  passed  to  manifest  itself  in  the 
individual. 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  I  177 

For  the  more  convenient  purposes  of  classification, 
the  personal  data  have  been  grouped  under  three 
main  heads:  Parentage,  Education,  and  Health.  Each 
of  these  heads  is  to  be  considered  in  the  light  of  as 
many  cases  as  possible,  for  the  sake  of  the  cumulative 
effect  of  the  evidence.  In  the  same  manner  will  the 
rest  of  the  data  be  grouped  under  three  main  heads : 
Beginnings  of  religious  emotion;  Conversion;  Ter- 
mination of  religious  emotion. 

These  divisions  are,  of  course,  susceptible  of  minor 
subdivisions,  while  the  discussion  of  conversion- 
phenomena  and  theory  will  occupy  a  separate  section. 
The  reader  will  bear  in  mind  the  flexible  nature  of 
much  of  the  evidence,  which  may  cause  the  omission 
of  some  and  the  repetition  of  other  instances,  in  a 
way  that  may  at  first  sight  appear  capricious  and 
arbitrary.  But  with  the  patient  application  to  each 
minor  case  of  those  broad  principles  underlying  their 
confession,  which  he  has  just  determined,  he  cannot 
be  long  impatient  or  much  at  fault. 

To  sift  the  facts  of  value  in  the  history  of  the  con- 
fessant  from  the  facts  of  no  value,  is  a  task  which  at 
best  cannot  be  complete.  In  many  instances,  such 
facts  are  few;  in  many  others,  they  become  sub- 
merged by  the  ideas,  feelings,  and  impressions 
which  flow  abundantly  from  the  writer's  pen;  in 
others  still,  the  character  of  the  document  precludes 
their  use.  Journals  and  diaries,  dealing  only  with 
the  religious  crisis  itself, — such  as  that  of  Sweden- 
borg,  or  of  Fox,  or  of  Wesley, — omit  matter  which 
they  consider  extraneous.  Therefore,  a  study  is 


178  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

limited  in  large  measure  to  records  regularly  auto- 
biographical in  form.  Even  in  these,  the  seeker  after 
facts  is  often  disappointed,  since  the  confessant  nat- 
urally lays  stress  on  the  impression  which  was  strong- 
est in  his  imagination,  and,  therefore,  does  not  readily 
discriminate  between  values.  Many  names  must 
needs  be  passed  over  in  silence  for  one  or  the  other  of 
these  reasons ;  and  this  silence  will  include  most  of  the 
mediaeval  confessants,  so  enormously  significant  on 
other  counts.  The  confessant  usually  gives  some  de- 
tails on  education  and  the  character  of  his  forebears: 
inferences  as  to  his  heredity  we  must  of  course  make 
for  ourselves. 

Thomas  Boston 8  of  Ettrick  was  piously  reared,  of 
God-fearing  Scots  parentage.  He  was  a  bookish  child 
and  well- taught,  prepared  for  college  at  fourteen,  but 
was  held  back  from  entrance  for  a  couple  of  years. 
His  career  there  was  brilliant;  and  he  showed  much 
taste  for  music.  His  preoccupation  with  the  religious 
life  came  gradually.  Jeanne  de  St.  M.  Deleloe  was 
from  infancy  vowed  to  the  Blessed  Virgin  by  her  fer- 
vent parents,  and  given  the  education  of  a  religious. 
Her  subsequent  mysticism  is  shown  to  be  a  natural 
outcome  of  her  teaching  and  of  her  surroundings. 
The  same  direct  inheritance  of  piety  is  shown  by  that 
Quaker  family,  the  Gurneys  of  Earlham.  Their  edu- 
cation intensified  this  spirit  and  the  example  of  a 
deeply  fervent,  elder  sister  completed  the  cycle  of  in- 
fluences. The  zeal  and  ardor  of  St.  Paul's  character 
was  afiirmed  by  his  orthodox  Hebrew  parentage  and 
his  thorough  education.  Rolle  of  Hampole  quaintly 
says  of  himself  only:  "My  youth  was  fond,  my 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  I  179 

childhood  vain,  and  my  young  age  unclean."     Of  his 
parents  nothing  is  known. 

The  father  and  mother  of  Thomas  Haliburton  * '  were 
eminently  religious. ' '  At  school  he  remained  idle  and 
dissipated  and  did  not  do  any  work  until  after  his 
eighteenth  year,  when  he  began  to  study  for  the  min- 
istry. Joseph  Hairs  mother  was  a  woman  of  rare 
sanctity,  who  filled  his  young  mind  with  pious  dreams 
and  visions.  Her  weakly  body  he  seems  also  to  have 
inherited.  So  apt  and  talented  was  he,  that  he  was 
sent  to  college,  although  one  of  a  family  of  twelve 
children.  Newman's  religious  education  was  thor- 
ough ;  and  while  still  very  young  he  read  such  books  as 
Law's  "Serious  Call,"  Milner's  " Church  History," 
and  Newton  ' '  On  the  Prophecies. ' '  At  Oxford  he  fell 
under  the  influence  of  Keble  and  of  Pusey.  Nietzsche, 
in  the  "  Ecce  Homo, ' '  and  in  a  brief  sketch  of  his  child- 
hood, mentions  his  youthful  desire  for  universal  knowl- 
edge, led  thereunto  by  reading  Humboldt.  Schopen- 
hauer was  a  great  force  in  his  life.  He  remarks  that 
his  father  was  delicate  and  morbid,  and  died  young. 
At  school,  the  abbot  Othloh  was  first  severely  beaten, 
but  he  succeeded  by  reason  of  his  powerful  memory. 
Love  of  books  and  the  classics  much  preceded  his 
religious  interest ;  and  like  Guibert,  he  felt  them  to  be 
a  stumbling-block  in  the  true  way.  Swedenborg's 
parents  were  pious,  believed  warmly  in  spirits,  heard 
voices  and  saw  visions.  His  father,  Bishop  Svedberg, 
made  note  of  a  personal  conversation  with  an  angel. 
The  son  Emanuel  had  a  thorough  education  of  the 
scientific  kind,  and  when  he  began  to  write,  it  was 
on  economics,  physiology,  and  metallurgy.  The 


180  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

heredity  of  Joseph  Smith,  the  Mormon  prophet,  is  as 
significant  as  Swedenborg  's.  His  grandfather,  mother, 
and  father  were  subject  to  religious  gloom,  dreamed 
dreams,  saw  visions  and  lights.  The  whole  family  was 
imaginative,  lazy,  shiftless,  and  credulous :  all  showed 
certain  literary  aptitudes.  Deep  melancholies  and 
doubts  beset  this  family,  together  with  a  fear  of  In- 
dians which  is  reflected  in  Joseph 's  writings,  where  he 
identifies  the  savages  with  the  powers  of  hell.  Joseph 
had  little  schooling:  and  prided  himself  on  his  illiter- 
acy. His  apt  memory  and  ability  to  pick  up  and  use 
a  miscellaneous  reading  are  shown  in  the  Book  of  Mor- 
mon. John  Wesley's  parents  were  of  the  conven- 
tional, Church  of  England  type,  his  mother  a  woman  of 
strong  character,  his  education  that  of  an  English 
gentleman  destined  for  the  Church.  The  zeal,  the 
power,  the  emotion,  were  his  alone.  Uriel  d  'Acosta  was 
gently  educated  and  could  ride  the  ''Great  Horse/' 
At  the  proper  age  he  studied  law,  but  religious  ideas, 
and  his  changes  of  view  concerning  them,  soon  ex- 
cluded all  other  interests  in  his  mind.  "I  was  edu- 
cated, "  he  writes,  "according  to  the  custom  of  that 
country,  in  the  Popish  Religion ;  and  when  I  was  but  a 
young  man  the  dread  of  eternal  Damnation  made  me 
desirous  to  keep  all  its  doctrines  with  the  utmost  exact- 
ness." Henry  Alline  went  early  to  school  and  was 
forward  in  learning.  Augustin's  relations  with  his 
mother,  Monica,  are  too  widely  known  to  need  com- 
ment here.  He  shows,  in  truth,  very  marked  traits 
inherited  from  both  parents,  and  his  description  is 
sympathetic.  "In  this  my  childhood,"  he  says  of 
his  education,  "I  had  no  love  of  learning  and  hated 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  I  181; 

to  be  forced  to  it.  I  would  not  have  learned  had  I 
not  been  compelled."  He  liked  Latin,  but  disliked 
Greek ;  loved  Euclid,  but  hated  Homer,  and  was  much 
beaten  because  of  this.  All  works  of  eloquence,  "of  a 
dramatic  type,"  appealed  to  his  mind,  and  he  was 
deeply  influenced  first  by  a  dialogue  of  Cicero — the 
"Hortensius" — and  later  by  Aristotle.  His  subse- 
quent career  of  dissipation  terminating  in  the  depres- 
sion and  discontent  with  self,  which  were  the  first 
steps  toward  his  conversion,  are  dealt  with  under  other 
heads.  The  influence  of  Monica  on  her  son,  both  direct 
and  indirect,  is  marked  throughout  his  life.  Another 
pious  mother  had  for  her  son  the  great  Cardinal  Bel- 
larmin,  whom,  with  his  four  brothers,  she  destined  to 
the  priesthood.  They  were  the  spectators  of  her  fast- 
ing and  flagellation ;  indeed,  all  their  early  influences 
turned  them  to  the  Church.  In  addition,  however, 
to  his  strong  clerical  bent,  Bellarmin  was  talented, 
very  quick,  and  a  lover  in  boyhood  of  poetry  and  of 
the  classics.  He  notes  his  taste  for  music  and  sing- 
ing, and  that  he  could  mend  nets  very  well.  A  Jesuit 
at  seventeen,  he  pursues  his  education  thereafter  in 
the  direction  of  theology  and  Hebrew,  making  a  gram- 
mar of  the  latter  tongue,  for  his  own  use.  Another 
precocious  child,  whose  education  aided  a  development 
first  wholly  intellectual,  but  which  later  became  re- 
ligious, and  mystical,  was  Pascal. 

In  her  curious  record  of  changes  in  creed,  Annie 
Besant  describes  her  father  as  a  sceptic  and  savant; 
and  says  that  her  own  ardently  religious  bent,  in  the 
beginning,  was  spontaneous  and  individual.  Robert 
Blair,  early  left  an  orphan,  was  educated  at  Glasgow 


182  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

College,  where  Augustin's  "Confessions"  deeply  im- 
pressed him.  He  developed  the  gift  of  extempore 
preaching,  and  although  he  had  his  full  share  of  the 
superstition  of  his  day,  yet  he  showed  the  gradual 
and  steady  evolution  of  his  religious  nature.  Bun- 
yan's  schooling  amounted  to  little  more  than  learning 
to  read  and  write.  In  youth  he  was  exceedingly  vi- 
cious ;  and  was  noted  always  for  a  vivid  imagination. 
Thomas  Chalkley  is  more  a  man  of  the  world  than 
most  Quakers;  he  studied  hard  in  his  Philadelphia 
home;  and  seems  to  have  had  normal  youthful  influ- 
ences. His  temporal  affairs  prospered,  showing  that 
he  had  business  talent  and  industry.  J.  F.  Clarke 
was  taught  classics  and  mathematics  by  his  grand- 
father; he  had  much  taste  for  nature  and  for  litera- 
ture. His  development  was  normal.  Few  Quakers 
give  us  any  information  on  matters  temporal,  but 
Eichard  Davies,  unlike  many  others,  was  '  '  brought  up 
in  a  little  learning. ' '  At  birth,  John  Dunton  lost  his 
mother.  He  was  a  sickly  child,  fanciful  and  dreamy, 
disliking  study.  A  violent  love-affair,  at  thirteen, 
caused  him  still  further  to  neglect  his  education ;  but 
a  year  later  he  was  ready  to  enter  Oxford.  C.  G. 
Finney's  parents  were  not  "professors";  but  his 
friends  soon  turned  him  toward  religion.  James 
Fraser  of  Brae  learned  well  at  school,  but  his  temper 
was  peevish,  he  says,  and  he  was  no  "dawty."  The 
strictness  of  his  rearing  caused  many  violent  reactions. 
George  Fox  says  little  of  himself  as  a  child,  save  that 
he  had  "gravity  and  stayedness,  with  innocency  and 
honesty."  He  had  but  little  book-learning  and  that 
self-taught.  Very  different  were  the  cultivated  sur- 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  I  183 

roundings  of  the  Arabian  Al-Ghazzali,  who  was  a 
savant  at  twenty,  yet  as  perplexed  about  religious 
matters  as  ever  Fox  himself.  Edmund  Gosse  con- 
tributes an  admirable  modern  study  of  heredity  in  his 
book  entitled  ' '  Father  and  Son. ' '  The  intensely  pious 
parents — members  of  the  strict  sect  of  Plymouth 
Brothers — work  on  the  imagination  of  their  child  till 
he  becomes  an  elder  at  ten.  But  the  father  was  a 
man  of  science,  and  this  inheritance,  together  with  the 
crucial  intellectual  conflict  of  the  fifties,  carried  the 
son  to  a  total  change  of  view.  Evangelistic  influences 
of  a  certain  type,  with  their  inevitable  effect  upon  a 
sensitive  nature,  have  never  been  more  admirably  de- 
scribed than  in  this  volume,  which  has  the  rare  virtue 
of  sympathy  for  outworn  ideas. 

Unusual  in  a  Quaker,  James  Gough  had  "a  good 
genius  and  a  propensity  to  learning, — "  and  easily 
knew  Latin  and  Greek.  He  was  also  given  to  poetry, 
until  convinced  of  its  wickedness.  Yet  he  thinks  that 
his  youth  was  "a  complication  of  ambition,  envy,  craft, 
and  deceit, ' '  before  his  religious  interests  became  dom- 
inant. 

The  abbot  Guibert  de  Nogent  is  one  of  the  more 
direct  examples  of  hereditary  mysticism.  The  ex- 
cessive piety  of  his  parents  kept  them  apart  for  much 
of  their  married  life;  and  when  his  mother  left  him 
alone  at  eight  years  old  to  enter  a  convent,  she  already 
spoke  of  demons  and  visions  as  matters  of  daily  occur- 
rence. His  training  was  very  severe ;  he  followed  his 
mother's  example  and  at  twelve  became  a  monk.  There 
ensues  between  them  a  correspondence  full  of  their 
visions  and  mystical  experiences  by  which  each 


184  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

seeks  to  excite  and  animate  the  fervor  of  the  other. 
Like  the  preceding  example,  and  many  another,  Gui- 
bert  sacrificed  his  poetic  tastes,  and  turned,  at  cost  of 
many  sighs,  to  the  study  of  theology.  The  same  mys- 
tical atmosphere  surrounded  Madame  de  la  Mothe- 
Guyon  in  her  infancy ;  her  parents,  too,  were  zealots, 
although  she  thinks  that  in  every  way  but  the  religious 
they  neglected  her  and  her  education.  It  is  worthy  of 
note  that  she  accuses  practically  every  one  with  whom 
she  comes  into  contact,  of  neglect  and  persecution, — 
sisters  and  servants,  husband,  mother-in-law,  and  the 
world  in  general, — all,  according  to  her  narrative, 
unite  in  tormenting  this  harmless  girl.  Even  her  ex- 
tremely ostentatious  humility,  the  irritating  way  in 
which  she  turns  the  other  cheek,  and  makes  gifts  to 
those  who  beat  her,  is  not  enough  to  account  for  such 
systematic  and  continuous  persecution;  it  ends  by 
making  the  reader  sceptical,  as  though  it  were  a  de- 
lusion. 

A.  J.  C.  Hare  gives  an  interesting  record  of  a 
severely  devout  education,  the  fervency  of  which,  how- 
ever, did  not  retain  its  full  effect  upon  his  gentle, 
somewhat  dilettante  character.  Frederic  Harrison,  in 
his  "Apologia/'  draws  a  picture  of  the  via  media,  of 
a  healthy  upbringing,  simple,  cheerful  ideas,  holding 
neither  hell  nor  terror,  followed  by  a  gradual  evolu- 
tion to  more  scientific  views.  James  Lackington  is  of 
peasant-stock  and  self-taught.  Through  many  de- 
vious wanderings  in  faith,  he  returns  at  the  end  to  his 
inherited  simplicity.  John  Livingstone  underwent  the 
customary  arduous  Scottish  education ;  he  says  he  was 
well-beaten  and  so  became  proficient!  His  religious 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  I  185 

feelings  developed  slowly  and  gradually  superseded 
every  other  interest.  The  comte  Lomenie  de  Brienne 
evidently  drew  a  certain  zeal  from  his  father,  the  pious 
Huguenot  minister  to  Henri  IV,  but  a  court-educa- 
tion was  followed  by  violent  dissipation  and  mania,  so 
that  much  of  his  later  life  was  spent  at  St.  Lazare. 
The  parents  of  Henry  More  were  Calvinists,  and  he 
was  severely  reared,  yet  he  did  not  naturally  turn  to 
that  faith,  being  of  a  speculative  mind.  Knowledge 
and  learning  were  at  first  the  most  important  objects 
of  his  life ;  his  religious  ideas  were  slowly  evolved  and 
came  to  take  first  place.  John  Newton,  the  son  of 
poor  parents,  had  but  two  years'  regular  schooling. 
By  the  aid  of  a  powerful  memory,  however,  he  * '  picked 
up"  French  and  Latin,  and  after  his  conversion  he 
taught  himself  both  Greek  and  Hebrew.  As  a  boy, 
he  is  not  quite  so  illiterate  as  Patrick,  the  saintly 
swineherd,  who  terms  his  own  writings  "  drivel. " 

Bishop  Symon  Patrick,  that  cheerful  person,  blesses 
God  for  his  bookish  family  and  his  careful  training. 
This  included  short-hand,  with  which  he  noted  ser- 
mons. He  went  to  Cambridge  as  a  sizar,  but  soon  ob- 
tained a  scholarship,  work,  and  friends.  Paulinus  (of 
Pella)  gives  an  interesting  account  of  his  pre-Christian 
education.  He  read  Homer  and  Plato  in  his  fifth 
year,  but  his  studies  were  interrupted  by  ill-health. 
Mark  Pattison's  uncommonly  slow  development  in- 
terfered with  the  normal  course  of  his  college  career. 
When  he  does  begin  to  develop  in  the  early  twenties, 
he  says,  "I  read  enormously."  Kenan's  Breton  par- 
entage brought  the  Breton  inheritance  of  dreamy 
imagination.  He  also,  he  thinks,  inherited  his  "in- 


186  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

capacity  of  being  bad. '  '  Placed  in  a  Roman  Catholic 
seminary,  he  had  in  all  respects  the  clerical  training, 
added  to  the  temperament  of  a  priest.  Only  his  in- 
tellect, unfettered,  gigantic,  turned  toward  "la 
science  positive"  making  all  else  of  no  regard.  Few 
personal  studies  remain  to  us  of  more  value  and 
suggestiveness. 

Among  the  more  vivid  records,  that  of  M.  A. 
Schimmelpenninck  gives  the  picture  of  a  pietist 
rearing.  Delicate  and  frail,  at  the  side  of  an  ailing 
mother,  this  girl  undergoes  a  strenuously  thorough 
religious  education.  Taught  by  a  father  who  thinks 
it  his  duty  to  be  harsh,  she  suffers  agonies  of  nervous 
dread  and  misery.  The  ensuing  resentment,  reaction, 
and  shrinking  from  everything  religious,  culminating 
in  melancholy  and  conversion,  seem  to  be  thoroughly 
explained  by  these  facts.  Teresa's  parents  were  noble 
and  gave  her  the  upbringing  of  a  woman  of  the 
world.  Her  entrance  into  convent-life  did  not  alter 
this  ideal  for  some  time,  until,  indeed,  she  began  to 
burn  with  the  zeal  for  reform.  She  says  little  of 
her  early  self,  but  shows  in  every  line  she  wrote 
her  executive  ability.  Leon  Tolstoi  was  also  of  a  noble 
family,  and  brought  up  as  the  conventional  young 
aristocrat.  From  this  life,  however,  he  later  turned 
in  horror,  as  did  another  Russian  noble,  G.  Schow- 
valoff.  Anna  van  Schurman  was  trained  first  in 
the  arts ;  and  had  done  wonders  in  glass-etching,  tap- 
estry, and  paper  flowers,  before  she  turned  her  at- 
tention to  Hebrew  and  the  classics.  She  was  chiefly 
taught  by  her  father,  from  whom  she  had  her  serious 
and  scholarly  inclinations.  Blanco  White,  like  Renan, 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  I  187 

was  educated  for  the  priesthood.  The  piety  of  his 
parents  was  mingled  with  other  characteristics  in  his 
strange  personality.  George  Whitefield  was  "fro- 
ward,"  disliked  study,  and  had  an  impudent  temper. 
His  dramatic  tastes  developed  young  and  lasted  all  his 
life.  At  Oxford  he  set  to  work  in  earnest.  In  the 
"  Dialogue  with  Trypho,"  Justin  Martyr  outlines  a 
brief  account  of  his  education,  of  his  inborn  love  of 
philosophy,  and  of  how  he  turned  toward  Christian 
ideas. 

Details  of  education  and  heredity  among  the  earlier 
minor  Roman  Catholic  cases,  we  have  already  stated 
to  be  few.  Save  that  she  was  an  "indocta  mulier," 
and  concealed  her  revelations  from  her  family,  Hilde- 
garde  of  Bingen  gives  no  information.  The  Mere 
Jeanne  des  Anges  had  thoroughly  upset  her  family 
with  her  extravagances  by  her  fifteenth  year,  so  in  de- 
spair they  sent  her  to  a  convent.  She  seems  to  have 
been  given  a  good  education  and  was  very  fond  of 
reading.  Loyola  received  the  training  of  a  Spanish 
aristocrat  and  soldier,  " delighting  in  feats  of  arms." 
In  these  words  he  dismisses  the  matter  as  trifling. 
That  "  little,  prittie  Tobie,"  as  Charles  I  calls  Sir 
Tobie  Matthew,  was  trained  in  Protestantism  and  for 
a  career  of  diplomacy.  When  he  began  to  be  inter- 
ested in  Catholicism,  his  father's  thunderings  seemed 
to  have  but  hastened  his  decision.  Gertrude  More's 
father  disciplined  her  severely,  yet  her  girlhood  was 
wilful  and  headstrong.  De  Marsay  had  Protestant 
parents  who  gave  him  a  devout  upbringing.  The 
young  Angelique  Arnauld,  one  of  a  deeply  religious 
family,  fulfilled  her  destiny  and  heritage  when  she 


188  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

became  a  mystic.  Both  Sainte-Chantal  and  M.  M. 
Alacoque  came  of  devout  parents.  Paul  Lowengard 
and  Alphonse  de  Ratisbonne  were  both  of  Jewish  de- 
scent. The  former,  in  temperament  being  sensitive  to 
religious  ideas,  suffered  from  the  mockery  of  his  free- 
thinking  father;  so  that  his  conversion  to  Catholicism 
seemed  more  or  less  inevitable.  The  latter 's  family 
were  deeply  fervent  in  their  religious  nature,  and  a 
brother  preceded  him  into  the  Roman  Catholic  Church. 
This  is  also  the  case  of  F.  Liebermann.  Although 
fj.  J.  Olier  had  orthodox  parents,  yet  they  doubted  his 
vocation  because  of  his  heady  temperament,  and  so 
gave  him  a  worldly  training.  F.  Ozanam's  devout 
nature  was  shared  by  every  member  of  his  family ;  his 
sister  "was  as  pious  as  an  angel/'  and  his  college  life 
was  filled  with  religious  struggles  and  triumphs.  An- 
other convert,  Fanny  Pittar,  had  conventional  parents, 
a  normal  education,  and  a  lively  disposition.  The 
famous  Antoinette  Bourignon  suffered  much  because 
her  father  and  mother  quarrelled,  and  jeered  at  her 
infantile  devotion.  She  felt  obliged  to  leave  home, 
and,  later,  became  a  recluse.  John  Eudes  says  that 
his  parents  were  humble  and  pious  like  himself.  Mary 
of  the  Angels  was  vain  and  fond  of  dress :  the  gentle- 
ness of  a  kind  priest  influenced  for  good  her  educa- 
tion and  nature.  Sister  Therese,  Carmelite,  was  one 
of  five  sisters,  who  all  took  the  veil.  Religious  matters 
had  always  formed  the  chief  occupation  of  this  family. 
Carre  de  Montgeron  was  spoiled  by  an  indulgent 
father  and  gave  himself  up  to  pleasure.  His  own 
wickedness,  however,  soon  alarmed  him  and  he  began 
to  think  of  reform.  The  parents  of  Anne  Catherine 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  I  189 

Emmerich  encouraged  her  in  practices  of  excessive 
devotion,  with  the  least  possible  food  and  sleep.  One 
does  not  often  find  a  confessant  congratulating  her- 
self with  a  pious  joy  on  her  complete  ignorance. 
"Grace  a  Dieu,"  she  cries,  "je  n'ai  presque  jamais 
rien  lu."  Peter  Favre,  the  friend  of  Loyola,  was 
brought  up  "by  good,  Catholic,  and  pious  parents/' 
who  saw  his  ability  and  sent  him  to  school,  instead 
of  rearing  him  a  Savoyard  shepherd  like  themselves. 
Hugo  of  St.  Victor  gives  an  account  of  his  studies 
and  his  progress,  much  as  does  John  of  Salisbury.  In 
a  group  of  modern  Catholic  converts,  giving  brief  ac- 
counts of  their  submission,  will  be  found  several 
Swedenborgians,  whose  parents  were  unable  to  satisfy 
them  by  rearing  them  in  the  mystical  tenets  of  that 
sect.9  The  nun  Osanna  Andreasi  had  parents  so  ex- 
traordinary for  the  seventeenth  century,  that  when 
she  began  to  have  divine  visions  and  conversations, 
they  thought  her  epileptic  and  insisted  that  she  con- 
sult a  physician ! 

Henry  Suso  inherited  both  his  mysticism  and  his 
nervous  temperament  from  a  devout  mother.  Frau- 
lein  Malwida  von  Meysenbug  had  a  keen  natural 
piety,  but  received  no  training  whatever.  The  cult  of 
heroes  was,  for  a  long  time,  her  childish  religion.  She 
underwent  a  long  struggle  with  the  aristocratic  prej- 
udices of  her  family,  and  finally  was  obliged  to 
break  with  them.  John  Trevor  had  a  conventional 
education  in  religious  matters,  and  was  early  im- 
pressed by  the  tragic  side  of  life.  H.  Fielding  writes 
that  he  was  piously  reared,  and  by  women  only.  D. 
'Jarratt  came  of  poor  parents,  and  was  being  led  into 


190  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

vice  by  his  idle,  dissipated  brothers.  By  his  mind 
and  memory,  however,  he  gained  his  schoolmaster's  in- 
terest, and  so  was  saved  to  be  trained  for  a  teacher. 
During  boyhood  H.  Martyn's  relations  badgered  him 
with  pious  exhortations;  at  college  he  was  irritable 
at  being  unsuccessful.  On  his  father's  death  he  be- 
came more  thoughtful.  J.  Lathrop  had  a  devout 
mother  and  was  early  susceptible  to  religious  con- 
tagion. Helen  Keller's  entire  education  is  of  great  in- 
terest. The  religious  side  of  it  was  conducted  by  Phil- 
lips Brooks,  and  accepted  by  her  without  question. 
Though  Friedrich  Schleiermacher's  mother  was  de- 
vout, yet  she  could  not  keep  her  son  from  a  phase  of 
peculiar  scepticism.  After  some  time  his  college  career 
at  Halle  steadied  his  mind.  J.  de  la  Fontaine  shared 
the  piety  of  his  Huguenot  family,  and,  though  he 
failed  in  his  studies,  became  a  minister.  A  large  num- 
ber of  Quakers  were  born  to  some  faith  equally  rigid ; 
and  given  the  severe  training  in  morals  which  was 
common  one  hundred  years  or  more  ago.  Education 
among  this  group  is  represented  by  but  a  few  years' 
schooling.  Such  instances  present  very  little  which 
may  distinguish  the  one  from  the  other  in  this  par- 
ticular; it  is  therefore  hardly  worth  our  while  to 
give  separate  mention  to  the  family  influences  and 
education  of  J.  Hoag,  0.  Sansom,  E.  Stirredge,  W. 
Williams,  B.  Follows,  C.  Marshall,  J.  Fothergill,  B. 
Jordan,  <T.  Croker,  Daniel  Wheeler,  David  Hall,  J. 
Wigham,  William  Evans,  S.  Neale,  A.  Braithwaite,  J. 
Bichardson,  H.  Hull,  M.  Hagger,  J.  Dickinson,  T. 
Shillitoe,  B.  Bangs,  J.  Hoskins,  and  Ann  Maris. 
Christopher  Story 's  father  kept  a  tavern,  by  which 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  I  191 

the  son  was  much  subjected  to  temptation.  John  Grat- 
ton  was  a  poor  ignorant  herd-boy.  George  White- 
head  was  bred  a  Presbyterian,  and  Mary  Dudley 
educated  as  a  Methodist,  but  the  result  upon  each 
nature  is  much  the  same.  Few  are  as  healthily  reared 
as  Margaret  Lucas,  who  was  taught  music  and  danc- 
ing; or  allowed  to  be  frivolous  and  read  novels  and 
plays  like  William  Lewis.  Mildred  RatcliflPs  mother, 
seeing  the  child  morbid  and  depressed,  urged  her 
away  from  religious  subjects;  while  Stephen  Grellet, 
born  a  conventional  French  Catholic,  is  later  horrified 
at  his  own  " worldly  "  upbringing.  He  had  "scarcely 
so  much  as  heard  whether  there  were  any  Holy 
Ghost"!  John  Banks 's  poor,  honest  parents  do  not 
seem  to  have  worried  him  much  about  religion. 

If  the  Friends  were  in  general  an  humble  and  un- 
learned sect,  it  will  be  remembered  that  their  leader, 
Fox,  was  at  no  time  a  man  of  books.  John  Wesley, 
on  the  contrary,  had  more  than  the  customary  Latinity 
and  cultivation,  and  John  Calvin  had  the  training 
of  a  scholar.  The  majority  of  Methodist  examples  are 
much  like  the  Quakers  in  the  respect  that  they  are 
simple  and  unlettered.  Among  other  Dissenters, 
George  Miiller,  who  was  an  exceedingly  vicious  youth, 
had  worldly  parents,  and  was  given  little  or  no  moral 
training.  Oliver  Heywood  fears  that  he  grieved  his 
good,  careful  parents;  but  at  college  he  changed  and 
came  to  prefer  divinity  to  the  classics.  Ashbel 
Green,  James  Melvill,  Alexander  Gordon,  and  William 
Haslett  had  pious  inheritances  and  strict  care.  John 
Murray's  parents  were  very  strict  during  his  child- 
hood, and  he  suffered  from  their  discipline.  William 


192  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

Wilson's  peasant  father  and  mother  were  illiterate, 
and  he  was  put,  like  St.  Patrick,  to  be  a  herd-boy. 
Cotton  Mather's  heredity  and  education  were  of  the 
strictest  type:  Oliver  Taylor's  parents,  if  poor,  were 
pious;  A.  H.  Francke's  education  was  theological  al- 
most from  the  beginning ;  and  Samuel  Hopkins  had  a 
pious  ancestry  and  college  training.  On  the  contrary, 
J.  A.  James  notes  that  he  had  no  religious  training 
whatever,  a  circumstance  which,  as  the  reader  has 
doubtless  already  observed,  is  decidedly  rare  among 
these  cases.  The  Methodists,  of  devout  parentage  and 
careful  early  rearing,  of  whom  little  else  need  be  said, 
are :  John  Prickard,  E.  Rodda,  R.  Roberts,  T.  Payne, 
A.  Mather,  P.  Jaco,  J.  Young,  J.  Travis,  William 
Capers,  J.  Allen,  Ben.  Rhodes,  T.  Rankin,  J.  Nelson, 
Freeborn  Garretson,  Peard  Dickinson,  A.  Torry,  T. 
Ware,  T.  Hanson,  T.  Tennant,  J.  Mason,  and  William 
Carvosso.  Neither  of  J.  Marsden  's  parents  was  at  first 
religious,  but  later  his  mother  had  an  attack  of  re- 
ligious mania,  which  made  a  deep  impression  on  his 
mind. 

Opposed  to  these,  however,  are  a  number  of  Metho- 
dist examples  lacking  pious  early  influences  or  in- 
heritances. Samson  Staniforth,  one  of  thirteen  chil- 
dren, can  remember  no  religious  instruction  whatever. 
J.  Pawson's  family  were  disgusted  with  his  zeal,  and 
used  him  harshly.  T.  Hanby  lost  his  mother,  had  a 
drunken  father,  and  lacked  all  training.  B.  Hibbard, 
the  eighth  child  of  a  poor  shoemaker,  was  harshly 
treated  and  much  beaten ;  Duncan  Wright  had  received 
no  education  whatever  until  nearly  twenty,  when  he 
enlisted.  Neither  had  J.  Furz  much  religious  in- 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  I  193 

strnction.  M.  Joyce,  born  a  Catholic,  was  a  sailor  and 
a  very  wild  youth.  T.  Rutherford,  though  his  parents 
were  religious,  and  he  devoted  to  them,  yet  was  led 
away,  influenced  by  vicious  comrades.  C.  Hopper, 
the  youngest  of  nine  children  of  a  farmer,  thinks  his 
family  cold  as  to  religion.  T.  Walsh,  of  an  Irish 
Catholic  family,  was  bred  quite  indifferent  to  the 
subject.  W.  Ashman's  parents  had  no  religion.  Very 
interesting  in  this  regard  are  the  cases  of  the  Evan- 
gelists Jerry  McAuley  and  Billy  Bray.  The  first,  of 
a  criminal  Irish  family,  was  a  thief  during  boyhood 
and  imprisoned  at  nineteen.  The  latter,  by  seven- 
teen, was  also  a  criminal,  and  a  drunkard,  but  he 
had  a  pious  father.  Normal  upbringing,  and  natural 
childish  indifference  to  the  subject  of  religion,  is 
noted  (in  the  case  of  the  first  with  horror)  by  C.  S. 
Spurgeon  and  by  Orville  Dewey. 

Henry  Ward  Beecher  was  the  child  of  sensible  and 
intelligent  people,  reared  in  an  active-minded  New 
England  household.  Granville  Moody  had  normal 
family  influences  and  education,  though  he  was  still  a 
boy  when  he  began  to  worry  about  the  liquor  ques- 
tion. Interesting,  indeed,  by  comparison  with  the 
foregoing,  are  the  scattered  bits  of  information  which 
Jerome  gives  us  about  his  childhood  and  education: 
".  .  .  how  I  ran  about  the  offices  where  the  slaves 
worked  .  .  .  how  I  had  to  be  dragged  from  my  grand- 
mother 's  lap  to  my  lessons,"  and  so  on.  Long  ere 
his  conversion,  he  had  cut  himself  off  from  this  pleas- 
ant, cultivated  home  and  dainty  food,  because  of  his  re- 
ligious ideas.  Unfortunately  for  us,  he  does  not  con- 
tinue the  personal  part  of  his  famous  "Apology." 


194  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

The  result  of  this  collocation  of  evidence  is  seen 
to  be,  after  all,  by  no  means  negative.  A  pre- 
ponderance of  persons  whose  interest  in  religious 
matters  was  fostered  by  parental  teaching  and  ex- 
ample, throws  into  strong  relief  the  few  in  whom 
this  was  not  the  case.  The  effects  of  direct  heredity 
are  to  be  seen  in  more  families  than  it  is  possible  to 
recapitulate  here.  The  question  of  education — if  that 
term  be  limited  to  book-learning,  is  much  less  im- 
portant, if  it  be  important  at  all.  The  range  of  emo- 
tional religious  experience  is  wide  enough  to  include 
the  saint  and  the  savant  (Augustin,  Bellarmin),  the 
tinker  and  the  maidservant  (Bunyan,  Joanna  South- 
cott). 

That  the  tendency  toward  emotional  religious 
processes  is  hereditary,  fostered  and  heightened  by 
family  atmosphere  and  family  training,  is  proved,  by 
the  aggregate  of  these  examples,  beyond  the  possibility 
of  doubt.  Cases  in  which  this  family  tendency  is 
absent  altogether,  in  which  the  religious  interest  is 
wholly  individual, — although  they  have  been  made 
much  of  in  certain  quarters, — are  seen  to  be  too  few  to 
contribute  any  substantial  weight  to  any  opposite 
theory. 

Although  the  facts  concerning  the  subject's  parent- 
age, heredity,  and  education  are  often  interesting  and 
suggestive  in  regard  to  his  religious  development,  yet 
they  have  no  such  significance  as  have  the  data  of 
health.  This  is,  in  truth,  the  most  important  con- 
tributing physical  factor  to  the  entire  result,  and  one 
given,  in  one  form  or  another,  in  practically  every  case. 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  I  195 

The  manner  in  which  it  is  furnished  may  vary  exceed- 
ingly; the  data  may  be  dwelt  upon  at  length,  or 
dropped  in  passing,  may  be  much  over-emphasized  in 
order  to  throw  some  miraculous  recovery  into  relief, 
or  may  be  touched  upon  only  as  matter  of  "mis- 
interpreted observation."  The  simplest  and  most 
thorough  method  for  analysis  would  seem  to  be  that 
of  grouping  together,  first,  those  confessants  whose 
health  has  on  the  whole  been  poor;  second,  those 
whose  health  has  on  the  whole  been  good;  and  third, 
those  exhibiting  mental  derangement  or  any  defined 
pathological  conditions,  which  require  separate  con- 
sideration. 

The  reader  will  note  that  an  especial  reference  is 
made,  wherever  possible,  to  the  physical  situation  of 
the  subject  in  childhood  and  during  the  period  of 
puberty;  since  this  is  most  essential  to  the  proper 
understanding  of  his  case. 

Discussion  of  the  conclusions  to  which  these  data 
point,  must  necessarily,  according  to  our  inductive 
plan,  be  made  later  and  be  drawn  from  them.  In 
the  section  on  "Mysticism,"  there  must  needs  be  a 
return  upon,  and  a  repetition  of,  these.  The  whole 
question  of  religious  experience  has  been  clouded  for 
most  of  us  by  a  misunderstanding  of  the  health  data ; 
the  student  vibrating  between  the  attitude  of  the  medi- 
cal materialist,  to  whom  every  example  is  crazy,  or 
hysterical,  or  neurasthenic;  and  that  of  the  ecstatic 
pietist,  to  whom  Catherine  of  Genoa  and  Catherine  of 
Siena  represent  the  highest  types  of  health.  Aban- 
doning for  the  present  all  a  priori  conclusions  and  all 
unscientific  and  unjustified  attitudes  and  theories,  we 


196  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

shall  give  ourselves  up  for  a  few  pages  to  the  humble 
task  of  finding  out  what  the  facts  about  this  matter 
really  are.  Dull  though  this  may  be,  partaking  little 
of  the  exhilaration  attached  to  glittering  generalities, 
it  has  the  advantage  at  least  of  being  a  task  under- 
taken austerely,  in  the  service  of  truth. 

The  first  group — the  mediaeval  records — give  us  no 
classified  health  data,  and  commonly  omit  all  reference 
to  childhood.  Angela  da  Foligno  gives  no  physical 
facts  before  she  became  a  mystical  recluse.  There- 
after, however,  she  mentions  intense  bodily  suffering. 
"Never  am  I  without  pain,  continually  am  I  weak 
and  frail.  ...  I  am  obliged  to  be  always  lying 
down  .  .  .  my  members  are  twisted  .  .  .  also  am  I  un- 
able to  take  sufficient  food."  Margaret  Ebnerin,  of 
the  Gottesfreunde,  notes  her  own  intolerable  sufferings 
when  meditating  on  the  Passion.  Blood  poured  out 
of  her  mouth  and  nose ;  she  remained  comatose.  Pain 
in  the  head  and  trembling  were  other  symptoms  of 
this  attack,  which  was  suddenly  cured  on  an  Easter 
Saturday.  The  nun  Veronique  Giuliani  had  a  similar 
attack,  the  pain  lasting  for  over  twelve  years.  The 
stigmata  and  other  symptoms  followed,  and  the  Church 
made  them  matter  of  investigation.  Another  nun, 
Osanna  Andreasi,  was  suspected  by  her  parents  of 
epilepsy.  Mary  of  the  Angels,  Carmelite,  brought 
herself  into  a  state  of  aggravated  illness  by  her  aus- 
terities. She  was  subject  to  attacks  which  were  cured 
by  a  direct  command  of  her  confessor.  In  this  case 
the  exorcism  of  earlier  times  is  seen  in  practice.  The 
mystical  abbess,  Maria  d'Agreda,  was  as  a  child  sub- 
ject to  great  variations  in  mood.  When  she  became 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  I  197 

a  visionary,  she  suffered  intensely;  her  body,  she 
says,  ''was  weak  and  broken. "  Sister  Therese,  Car- 
melite, at  nine  years  old,  had  an  illness  resembling 
meningitis.  She  was  never  strong  thereafter,  at  thir- 
teen suffered  acutely  because  of  religious  scruples, 
and,  shortly  after  taking  the  veil,  died  of  consump- 
tion. An  obscure  illness  afflicted  A.  C.  Emmerich  at 
the  age  of  fourteen,  and  she  had  several  visions.  As 
these  grew  more  frequent,  her  health  steadily  declined. 
A  similar  illness  increased  the  piety  of  Peter  Favre. 
Joanna  Southcott's  extraordinary  delusion  that  she 
was  about  to  give  birth  to  the  Messiah  was  undoubtedly 
due  to  an  illness,  and  is  not  uncommon.  Of  her  health 
as  a  child,  she  says  nothing  save  that  her  dreams  were 
intensely  vivid.  R.  Baxter  had  symptoms  of  tubercu- 
losis in  youth,  and  grew  very  weak,  besides  having 
' '  difficulties  in  his  concernments. ' '  On  recovery  these 
disappeared.  Thomas  Boston  ailed  constantly  as  a 
result  of  improper  nourishment  at  college.  Dyspepsia 
and  fainting-fits  followed  him  through  life.  He  died 
in  middle  age  from  a  complication  of  maladies.  Dur- 
ing the  attacks  of  illness  his  Calvinism  grew  more 
harsh  and  his  gloom  deeper.  The  Mere  Jeanne  de  St. 
M.  Deleloe  was  born  nearly  dead.  After  taking 
the  veil,  her  health  grew  increasingly  bad.  She  was 
always  falling  ill,  and  her  religious  state  became  one 
of  gloom  and  doubt.  Weak  from  illness  and  terror  of 
her  condition,  she  suffers  constant  pain,  can  hardly 
stand  for  trembling,  and  during  this  time  undergoes 
frightful  temptations  to  blasphemy;  with  sleepless- 
ness, diabolic  persecution,  and  so  forth.  She  passes 
out  of  this  condition  and  recovers  a  portion  of  her 


198  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

normal  health,  but  illness  recurs  at  shorter  and  shorter 
intervals,  until  death  comes  at  fifty-six.  Gertrude  of 
Eisleben's  general  health  appears  to  have  been  poor, 
but  she  gives  no  details  of  any  value.  The  physique 
of  Thomas  Haliburton  was  never  robust;  he  dies,  in 
his  thirties,  of  a  pleurisy.  Bishop  Joseph  Hall  tells  us 
of  his  health  only  that  it  did  not  permit  him  to  over- 
study.  Hildegarde  of  Bingen  notes  many  jllnesses, 
by  which  she  was  beaten  and  overwhelmed  ' '  even  from 
my  mother's  breast. "  After  her  fourteenth  year  she 
grew  stronger  till  middle  age,  when  she  seems  to  have 
suffered  an  inflammation  followed  by  catalepsy;  dur- 
ing ecstasy  "her  veins  and  flesh  dry  up,"  and  she 
took  to  her  bed.  She  had  her  first  visions  at  three, 
at  eight  had  others  and  took  the  vows;  at  fifteen 
they  became  frequent.  Her  physical  and  nervous  suf- 
fering during  ecstasy  was  intense.  Jerome  writes  that 
* '  a  deep-seated  fever  fell  upon  my  weakened  body  .  .  . 
and  wasted  my  unhappy  frame. ' '  It  was  during  this 
illness  his  famous  dream  occurred.  No  less  a  saint, 
Ignatius  Loyola,  while  gallantly  fighting  at  the  siege  of 
Pampeluna,  was  severely  wounded  in  both  legs,  it  be- 
ing necessary  to  re-break  and  reset  one.  During  his 
painful  and  tedious  convalescence,  thoughts  of  another 
world  began  to  occupy  his  mind,  till  then  filled  by  the 
love  of  his  lady.  On  recovery,  he  went  on  pilgrim- 
age through  Spain  dressed  as  a  mendicant,  and  it  is  in- 
teresting to  read  that  here  he  began  to  see  visions 
hanging  in  the  heated  air.  After  such  an  illness,  in- 
sufficiently fed  and  wandering  all  day  under  a  Spanish 
sun,  we  are  not  surprised  that  depression  fell  upon 
him,  and  that,  when  entering  a  monastery  and  practis- 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  I  199 

iiig  all  austerities,  he  should  be  "violently  tempted  to 
throw  himself  out  of  the  window  of  his  cell. ' '  Othloh 
had  a  bad  fever  and  delirium,  taking  the  form  of  a 
castigation  by  demons,  and  he  reluctantly  contem- 
plated entering  the  monastery.  A  second  illness,  caus- 
ing temporary  paralysis,  was  needed  to  complete  his 
conversion,  and  his  health  thereafter  is  not  noted.  Al- 
though "Wesley  had  a  trying  illness  just  at  the  time  of 
his  change  in  views,  and  was  a  slight,  small  man  of 
delicate  physique,  with  a  chronic  bilious  catarrh,  yet 
his  later  health  must  have  been  of  iron  to  permit  those 
evangelistic  feats  of  preaching,  those  horseback  jour- 
neys over  all  the  length  and  breadth  of  England. 
Henry  Alline  fell  so  ill  at  fourteen  that  he  hardly 
cared  to  live.  He  kept  late  hours  and  lived  unwhole- 
somely,  while  his  "conscience  would  roar  night 
and  day."  Matters  grew  worse,  and  he  died  of  a 
decline  at  thirty-six.  Augustin  makes  note  of  an 
illness  from  weak  lungs,  and  conditions  of  nervous  ex- 
haustion after  his  Carthage  experiences,  but  he  gives 
no  general  health  data.  Bellarmin's  health  seems  to 
have  been  consistently  bad;  he  was  a  chronic  sufferer 
from  insomnia  and  headache;  at  one  time  his  lungs 
were  threatened;  at  another  he  nearly  died  of  a  dys- 
entery. Blair  owns  to  severe  illnesses.  A  tertian 
fever  came,  he  thinks,  because  "I  was  puffed  up  by 
profiting  well  in  my  bairnly  studies."  A  poor  regi- 
men at  college  helped  to  injure  his  health,  as  well  as 
encouraged  him  in  seeing  visions.  Charles  Bray  had 
a  delicate  childhood  and  was  ever  under  suspicion  of 
phthisis.  Bunyan's  tumults  and  melancholies  are  in- 
termittent, and  he  often  connects  them  with  "weakness 


200  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

in  the  outer  man."  Peter  Cartwright 's  conversion- 
crisis  took  the  form  of  an  attack  in  which  "my  heart 
palpitated  and  in  a  few  minutes  I  turned  blind. ' '  In 
later  life  he  was  strong.  The  reader  cannot  for- 
get what  befell  Saul  of  Tarsus  on  the  road  to  Damas- 
cus, whether  he  believe  it  to  have  been  an  ophthalmia 
or  no.  "The  stone"  was  an  especial  discipline  to  the 
sedentary  person  in  the  past;  and  Stephen  Crisp  is 
among  those  who  suffered  from  it.  Fraser  of  Brae 
says  he  was  not  like  to  live  as  an  infant,  but  was  whole- 
some thereafter  in  his  childhood.  At  eighteen,  re- 
ligious torment  fell  upon  him,  upset  his  health  and  dis- 
turbed his  mind.  Later,  an  illness  is  associated  with 
a  very  black  relapse  of  melancholy  and  horror.  The 
Arabian  philosopher  Al-Ghazzali  was  completely  pros- 
trated nervously  by  his  search  for  the  truth,  and  for 
a  time  could  neither  talk,  swallow,  nor  digest.  Mme. 
Guyon  was  a  fragile  infant,  frequently  ill;  at  nine, 
she  nearly  died ;  and  another  severe  malady  beset  her 
at  conversion.  A  bad  attack  of  smallpox  follows  later. 
Indeed,  her  ill-health  on  the  mystical  way,  beset  by  hor- 
rible visions  and  fiendish  manifestations,  is  continuous. 
Alice  Hayes  was  delicate  and  lame;  Joseph  Hoag, 
"of  a  weakly  make,  with  gatherings  in  the  ears"; 
but  he  improved,  till  at  eighteen,  he  pined  away  and 
wasted,  thinking  the  Devil  was  coming  for  him  in 
person.  Francis  Howgill  tersely  describes  himself 
during  his  mental  conflict :  "  I  became  a  perfect  fool,  I 
was  as  a  man  distracted,"  from  weakness  and  sleep- 
lessness. Lutfullah,  the  Mohammedan  Pundit,  who 
was  a  man  at  eight  years  old,  has  a  severe  illness  there- 
after which  leaves  him  weakened.  His  devotion  to  the 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  I  201 

faith  of  Mahomet  never  wavers,  while  his  natural  piety 
is  extraordinary.  Any  reader  of  Macready's  diary 
will  recall  how  the  serious  and  devout  tone  heightens 
after  a  severe  illness.  Bishop  Symon  Patrick  was  in 
great  danger  from  a  fever  when  twelve  years  old, 
whereupon  he  took  serious  resolves.  Later,  overstudy 
brings  on  a  "sore  distemper,"  but  he  takes  warning, 
and  at  eighty,  when  his  narrative  closes,  seems  to 
have  been  hale  and  hearty.  Ill-health  interrupted  the 
studies  of  Paulinus  Pellaeus,  whose  doctor  ordered 
him  an  outdoor  life.  Mark  Pattison,  as  a  boy,  was 
highly  nervous  and  delicate,  tardy  in  development, 
and  had  trouble  with  his  eyes.  During  his  pious  and 
Puseyite  period  and  the  reaction  therefrom,  his  health 
suffered  from  insomnia,  depression,  and  palpitations; 
but  he  came  out  of  this  safely,  and  does  not  further 
comment  on  physical  conditions.  Eenan  is  another 
free-thinker  whose  early  religious  phase  is  strong 
enough  and  minutely  enough  described,  to  warrant  his 
inclusion  in  the  lists.  He  was  a  frail  infant  and  feeble 
child,  and  later  his  back  was  bent  and  his  health  was 
injured  by  incessant  study.  His  conversion  to  free- 
thought  bears  almost  the  same  symptoms,  physical 
and  nervous,  as  the  more  orthodox  conversions,  and  is 
compared  by  him  to  ' '  une  violente  encephalite,  durant 
laquelle  toutes  les  autres  fonctions  de  la  vie  furent 
suspendues  en  moi."  Mrs.  Schimmelpenninck  was 
constantly  ill  as  a  young  child,  and  had  nervous  fears 
of  the  dark,  * '  I  was  by  nature  timid,  I  had  from  my 
cradle  miserable  health, "  she  says.  A  spinal  weak- 
ness developed  later,  and  her  gloom  increased  with  the 
necessary  inaction.  Terror  rode  her  like  a  hag,  terror 


202  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

of  the  dark  and  of  her  father — fear  of  everything,  like 
Harriet  Martineau.  Elizabeth  Stirredge  is  so  miser- 
able in  her  tender  years,  of  such  a  sad  heart,  weeping 
and  praying,  that  her  mother  feared  a  decline.  Suso 
is  one  of  those  monastic  examples  where  a  naturally 
strong  person,  "full  of  fire  and  life,"  is  brought,  by 
self-torments  and  the  cloistered  regimen,  into  a  ruin- 
ous and  shattered  state  of  morbid  mind  and  nerves. 
He  notes  a  catalepsy — to  our  modern  ideas  it  is  a 
marvel  that  he  survived  at  all  the  hideous  self-tortures 
imposed  by  his  faith.  Teresa's  is  a  similar  case  of 
this  particular  type.  She  was  a  healthy  child  and  a 
young  girl  of  bounding  vitality  and  love  of  life.  She 
had  been  cloistered  for  some  time,  when  a  long  illness 
set  her  to  reading  Augustin  and  caused  her  ideas  to 
take  on  a  darker  hue.  When  they  once  fairly  begin, 
the  phenomena  of  mysticism  progress  steadily ;  but  her 
case  is  sui  generis  in  that  she  retained  to  the  end  a 
high  degree  of  bodily  vigor.  Teresa  is  the  rare  ex- 
ample of  the  mystic  who  yet  possessed  a  healthy  en- 
ergy, efficiency,  and  executive  ability,  and  for  this 
reason  it  is  totally  misleading  to  use  her  as  a  type. 
F.  A.  von  der  Kemp,  impairing  his  health  at  college 
by  chemical  research  and  overstudy,  soon  became  ex- 
cited by  religious  subjects  and  began  to  make  an  en- 
quiry as  to  truth.  J.  Blanco  White  had  an  illness  in 
youth  which  persisted  through  life  and  which  was  fos- 
tered by  his  morbid  shyness.  Several  short  fits  of 
sickness  influenced  George  Whitefield  at  a  time  when 
Charles  Wesley  had  moved  his  mind.  His  depression 
was  so  great  that  his  relatives  thought  him  insane. 
A  sudden  abstinence  precipitated  an  illness  of  six  or 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  I  203 

seven  weeks,  during  which  the  crisis  is  overpast.  But 
Whitefield  was  of  a  vigorous  physique,  whom  one 
would  hardly  consider  as  other  than  healthy.  Illnesses 
shake  the  youth  of  Isaac  Williams,  but  the  conditions 
of  this  case  cause  it  properly  to  be  classed  under  an- 
other heading.  Solomon  Mack,  the  grandfather  of 
Joseph  Smith,  had  his  visionary  lights  when  severely 
ill  with  rheumatism.  At  seventy-six  he  wrote  of 
"many  sore  accidents  in  his  childhood/'  and  suffered 
from  the  prevalent  dread  of  Indians. 

The  Quaker  group  furnishes  much  significant  data 
on  health  matters.  James  Gough  was  undersized  and 
his  constitution  was  weak  and  tender.  M.  Lucas's 
excessive  piety  so  exhausts  her  vitality  that  she  is 
prostrated.  She  remarks  that  at  the  time  she  was 
"seized  with  a  weakness  of  the  body,'1  which  lasted 
the  rest  of  her  life.  Elizabeth  Collins  leaves  a  record 
of  illness  beginning  ere  she  was  twelve.  On  the  other 
hand,  John  Churchman  seems  to  have  held  his  con- 
sumption in  check  by  his  outdoor  life  and  horseback 
journeys.  A  severe  illness  brought  W.  Lewis  "dread- 
fully to  feel  the  state  I  was  in."  Catherine  Phillips, 
whose  girlhood  was  hideous  with  terror  of  guilt,  re- 
marks that  she  was  several  times  "visited  with  fevers 
which  brought  me  very  low."  At  ten,  David  Hall 
had  smallpox  which  left  him  with  a  nervous  affection 
resembling  palsy.  He  seemed  almost  idiotic  for  sev- 
eral years.  At  twenty,  he  was  beset  with  religious 
ardor  to  exhort  others,  and  with  many  zealous  ex- 
travagances. The  state  of  irreligion  in  France  excites 
Mildred  Ratcliff,  a  poor  widow  in  delicate  health  and 
with  seven  children,  and  she  sets  out  on  foot  as  a 


204  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

preacher.  The  Lord  instantly  sent  her  renewed  health 
and  strength  for  this  task,  which  she  never  once,  of 
course,  connects  with  fresh  air  and  exercise.  Samuel 
Neale  was  brought  very  low  by  smallpox  at  twelve, 
wherefore  he  covenanted  with  God.  Fever  adds  to  his 
depression  at  conversion.  Anna  Braithwaite  's  friends 
send  for  the  doctor  during  her  period  of  conflict,  while 
John  Richardson  allows  that  he  "was  weak  in  body." 
Joseph  Oxley  from  accident  was  dwarfed  and  de- 
formed. Henry  Hull  was  a  good  boy,  but  at  nine  years 
old  he  had  an  illness,  and  thereafter  took  solitary 
walks,  and  at  sixteen  had  serious  impressions.  His 
health  remained  poor  and  his  spirits  low.  George 
Bewly,  a  morbid  lad,  was  fearful  at  twelve  of  losing 
his  innocency  from  contact  with  rude  companions. 
During  illness  the  tempter  sets  upon  him  and  he  bar- 
gains with  God  for  a  return  of  health.  A  malady 
when  she  was  sixteen  brought  serious  thoughts  to  Mary 
Hagger.  Benjamin  Bangs  has  poor  health ;  and  John 
Gratton  is  visited  with  a  grievous  illness  just  before 
his  conversion.  A  fit  of  sickness  nigh  unto  death 
seems  to  Jane  Hoskins  to  signify  that  she  should  emi- 
grate to  Pennsylvania.  Patrick  Livingstone  is  at 
times  subject  to  "infirmities  and  sickness,"  which 
bring  deep  melancholies  and  heart-searchings.  All 
John  Fothergill  tells  us  is  that  he  had  "many  afflict- 
ing dispensations."  He  fasts  and  goes  without  sleep 
for  months.  A.  'Jaffray  falls  into  "a  dull,  languid 
frame,"  when  worried  about  religion.  Edith  Jefferis 
and  Mary  Dudley  were  tuberculous.  The  former  had 
one  of  those  slow  cases  of  consumption  oftener  met 
with  in  past  days  than  now.  The  latter,  always  frail, 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  I  205 

had  many  bouts  of  illness  when  a  child,  and  later 
"was  affected  to  trembling. "  It  is  typhus  fever 
which  shakes  the  guilty  soul  of  Daniel  Wheeler. 

There  are  certain  cases  of  which  we  can  note  only 
that  they  "  en  joyed  poor  health, "  as  the  phrase  was, 
without  learning  further  particulars.  Such  were  John 
Prickard,  Thomas  Rankin,  John  Furz,  John  Pritchard. 
Thomas  Oliver's  severe  illness  brings  him  to  serious 
thoughts,  while  restless  nights,  terrifying  dreams,  and 
other  nervous  symptoms  cause  Peter  Jaco  to  resolve 
upon  reform.  Jacob  Young  had  a  sickness  at  three 
which  left  him  a  confirmed  asthmatic,  and  a  sickly, 
home-kept  boy.  After  his  conversion  at  ten  his  health 
improved,  but  mental  reactions  tread  hard  on  the  heels 
of  physical  ones  throughout  his  life.  Asthma  and 
bad  dreams  together  at  the  age  of  twelve  stirred  Lor- 
enzo Dow  to  piety  and  despair;  William  Capers,  a 
fragile  and  puny  child,  is  often  ill;  but  his  health 
greatly  improves  later  in  life,  and  he  is  shown  to  be 
a  well-balanced,  sensible,  and  unemotional  type  of 
person.  Satan  attacked  John  Allen  during  an  illness, 
and  threw  him  very  low.  Like  Cardan,  E.  Wilkinson 
was  often  frighted  by  dreams  and  waked  shrieking. 
Depression  after  fever  affects  George  Shadford  to  such 
a  degree  of  misery  about  his  future  state,  that  he  has 
thoughts  of  suicide.  J.  W.  de  la  Flechere's  self -ob- 
servation is  more  minute  than  that  of  most  when 
he  remarks:  "I  have  sometimes  observed  that  when 
the  body  is  brought  low,  Satan  gains  an  advan- 
tage over  the  Soul!"  In  his  case,  watching,  fast- 
ing, and  abstinence  from  meat  bring  an  inevita- 
ble consumption.  Illness  in  his  early  twenties 


806  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

brought  John  Nelson  into  great  fear  and  dis- 
tress. High  fever  and  blood-pressure  add  to  the 
hideous  terror  of  John  Haime,  who  laments  his  sin, 
"howling  like  a  wild  beast."  After  being  in  bad 
health  as  a  child  for  two  years,  Christopher  Hopper 
was  pronounced  incurable,  whereat,  he  says, ' '  I  judged 
it  was  high  time  to  prepare  for  a  future  state, "  and 
began  to  read  and  pray.  On  his  recovery,  his  senti- 
ments cool.  Mary  Fletcher  was  a  backward  child  of 
weak  understanding,  whose  conversion  was  attended 
with  markedly  nervous  and  pathological  symptoms. 
She  is  always  ailing  or  ill,  yet  is  energetic  in  the  work 
of  the  Methodist  Society.  Many  consumptives  display 
the  first  indications  of  their  condition  during  their 
period  of  religious  stress.  So  did  Thomas  Walsh,  who 
is  dead  of  his  disease,  at  twenty-eight.  The  constitu- 
tion of  Peard  Dickinson  was  weak  from  birth;  fever 
marked  his  religious  conflict;  but  on  emerging  into 
light,  he  gains  some  access  of  strength,  although  his 
health  remains  poor  to  the  end  of  his  life.  Although 
exceedingly  sensitive  and  anxious,  yet  Joshua  Mars- 
den  observed  no  illness  until  he  reached  the  age  of 
twenty.  Charles  Wesley's  conversion  followed  upon 
weak  health  and  palpitations  of  the  heart.  He  never 
had  the  vigor  of  his  famous  brother.  Thomas  Ware 
was  so  prostrated  by  disease  at  about  sixteen,  during 
religious  struggles,  that  he  was  little  better  than  a 
maniac.  During  a  sudden  attack  attended  with  vio- 
lent delirium  and  convulsions,  Richard  Williams,  a 
surgeon  of  free-thinking  tendencies,  was  overwhelmed 
with  terror  as  to  his  future.  On  his  recovery  he  be- 
came a  believer.  Sharp  bouts  of  illness  heightened  the 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  I  207 

mental  conflicts  of  Andrew  Sherburne.  Upon  George 
Miiller,  his  vices  brought  a  train  of  ills  by  which  he  is 
at  length  warned.  When  Luther  Rice  was  a  little  boy, 
his  excessive  and  gloomy  piety  impaired  his  health. 
James  Marsh  was  phthisical,  and  John  Stevenson 
scrofulous.  Ashbel  Green  fell  into  a  poor  condition 
from  overstudy,  and  grew  anxious  about  his  soul. 
William  Neill,  as  a  boy  afflicted  with  a  serious  disorder, 
betook  himself  to  secret  prayer.  One  of  David  Brain- 
erd's  worst  seasons  of  gloom  befell  him  during  the 
measles.  T.  E.  Gates  had  a  pleurisy  when  fourteen; 
he  shuddered  at  the  fear  of  death,  and  saw  a  vision  of  a 
black  man.  He  suffered  from  steadily  progressive  weak 
health,  with  insomnia,  melancholy,  and  fear  of  suicide. 
John  Winthrop,  at  fourteen,  had  a  fever.  Though  he 
had  previously  been  "lewdly  disposed,77  he  now  be- 
took himself  to  God.  Joseph  Thomas,  lame  from 
a  tuberculous  swelling,  and  sickly  always,  yet  heard  the 
call  to  preach  when  he  was  only  sixteen  years  old. 
Thomas  Scott,  being  in  doubtful  health,  was  much 
disquieted,  and  turned  to  an  arduous  search  for  the 
truth  which  led  him  through  devious  ways.  Jacob 
Knapp's  health  declined  from  his  mental  distress  on 
the  subject  of  religion.  Orville  Dewey  at  first  was 
strong,  and  indifferent  to  his  salvation.  Overwork 
at  college  brought  on  "a  nervous  disorder  of  the 
brain,"  which  injured  his  general  health  for  the  rest 
of  his  life.  He  began  immediately  to  be  worried  about 
doctrine.  Jerry  McAuley  turned  to  thoughts  of  re- 
ligion upon  imprisonment  for  theft,  during  which  his 
health  was  affected.  C.  S.  Spurgeon's  nerves  were 
much  upset  by  the  crisis  of  puberty.  H.  Fielding 


208  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

writes  that  he  was  delicate  and  ailing,  morbid  and 
fearful.  Fraulein  von  Meysenbug  was  delicate;  her 
morbid  speculations  led  her  to  a  sort  of  pantheism. 
John  Trevor  describes  himself  as  a  frail  baby  and  a 
morbid,  sensitive  child,  who  suffered  tortures  from 
nightmares.  At  the  crisis  of  puberty  he  underwent 
much  suffering;  and  his  conversion  is  followed  by  a 
physical  collapse.  He  had  poor  health  all  his  life  and 
many  fits  of  nervous  illness. 

Among  the  Moravian  testimonies,  which  so  moved 
Wesley  that  he  copied  them  into  his  journal,  we  read 
that  David  Nitschman  fell  into  a  fit  of  sickness  and 
turned  to  despair  for  a  whole  year.  A  long,  danger- 
ous illness  influenced  the  religious  crisis  of  Christian 
David.  The  other  Moravians  and  the  minor  Roman 
Catholic  cases  listed  under  the  heading  of  "  Roads  to 
Rome  in  America/*  contain  no  health  data  of  any  sig- 
nificance. 

The  poor  health  of  mystics  has  frequently  been  made 
the  subject  of  comment;  and  the  conditions  of 
life  in  mediaeval  convents  and  monasteries  would  seem 
fully  to  account  for  it.  Yet  it  is  odd  to  note  how 
slight  a  difference  exists  in  this  regard  between  the 
cloistered  nun  and  the  travelling  Quaker.  The  mysti- 
cal philosopher  de  St.  Martin  was  a  weakly  crea- 
ture. De  Marsay,  a  devout  youth,  who  prayed  for 
days  together,  was  at  no  time  strong  of  body.  The 
terrible  mental  distress  into  which  he  fell  was  soon 
aggravated  by  signs  of  consumption ;  but  he  improved 
in  health  after  a  time.  The  death  of  his  wife  in  mel- 
ancholy and  gloom,  having  ruined  her  constitution  by 
her  austerities,  appeared  to  have  its  effect  on  his  mind ; 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  I  209 

he  exerted  his  will  upon  himself  to  advantage,  and  re- 
gained his  serenity.  Angelique  Arnauld,  the  young 
abbess  of  Port-Royal,  at  fifteen  is  afflicted  by  fever,  an 
illness  which  transforms  the  active  girl  into  a  mystic 
under  the  touch  of  "la  Grace."  It  is  interesting  to 
read  that  it  needed  a  "fievre  quarte"  with  a  second 
1 1  coup  de  la  Grace ' '  to  complete  the  work.  Two  mod- 
ern cases  of  converted  Jews,  A.  de  Ratisbonne  and 
Paul  Lowengard,  mention  delicate  health;  the  latter 
adds  a  vicious  and  unwholesome  life,  and  became  a 
decadent  poet  while  still  a  schoolboy.  Nervous  pros- 
tration accompanies  his  turn  toward  the  Church. 
Mother  'Juliana  of  Norwich  calls  herself  "a  simple 
creature,  living  in  deadlie  flesh,  whose  pious  wish  it 
is,  to  have  of  God 's  gift  a  bodilie  sickness. ' '  Becom- 
ing a  recluse,  she  is  immediately  gratified  in  this  re- 
gard; fever,  delirium,  all  miseries  and  heaviness,  af- 
flicting her  thereafter.  Like  many  a  convent-bred 
baby,  M.  M.  Alacoque  was  a  nun  to  all  intents  and  pur- 
poses, at  four  years  old.  But  her  actual  vows  fol- 
lowed upon  an  illness  from  her  tenth  to  her  twelfth 
year.  The  gentle  Carlo  da  Sezze  was  alarmed  by  a 
vision  of  death,  vouchsafed  him  during  a  bad  fever. 
He  had  no  further  visions  until  after  he  became  a 
monk.  Although  Antoinette  Bourignon  was  born 
' '  tres  disgraciee  de  la  nature, ' '  and  displays  some  very 
odd  characteristics,  yet  she  never  tells  about  her  gen- 
eral health,  other  than  to  mention  visions  at  the  time  of 
puberty.  The  nun  Baptiste  Varani  was  infirm  for 
years.  The  apostle  Paul  notes  many  infirmities  of 
body,  and  describes  one  attack  of  blindness.  He  al- 
ludes also  to  some  chronic  ailment  which  is  not,  how- 


210  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

ever,  further  defined.  Amiel  was  certainly  ill.  Ober- 
mann  (De  Senancour)  had  nervous  prostration.  Jon- 
athan Edwards  had  an  illness  at  college  "  which 
brought  me  nigh  to  the  grave  and  shook  me  over  the 
pit  of  hell."  The  nun  Jeanne  des  Anges  was  hys- 
terical from  an  early  age:  her  autobiography  de- 
scribes minutely  an  attack  of  a  particular  form  of 
hysteria.  Rulman  Merswin  so  chastised  his  body 
"with  sore  and  manifold  exercises "  that  he  be- 
came so  weak  he  thought  he  would  die.  At  times 
he  feared  for  his  reason,  and  fell  into  swoons  from 
terror.  Mechtilde  observes  with  particularity  her  own 
constant  state  of  ill-health  and  suffering  from  the  stone. 
Fanny  Pittar  began  as  an  active  girl,  but  later  under- 
went many  severe  attacks  of  sickness.  Charles  Simeon 
says,  "I  made  myself  quite  ill"  from  religious  worry, 
when  at  college.  Joseph  Lathrop  is  often  infirm,  but 
was  aided  by  an  outdoor  life.  Hurrell  Froude  was 
a  youth  when  he  contracted  tuberculosis;  fasting, 
worry,  and  general  pious  austerities,  served  to  end  his 
life  while  still  young.  Both  William  Plumer  and  N. 
S.  Shaler  started  life  as  weakly  children,  but  gained 
in  strength  and  health  after  puberty.  Their  religious 
experiences  passed  through  an  emotional  stage  and 
terminated  in  a  calm  agnosticism. 

As  a  final  commentary  upon  this  group  as  a  whole, 
the  student  is  asked  to  observe  the  almost  unvarying 
presence  of  an  attack  of  illness  preceding  or  during 
a  conversion-period,  even  when  the  subject  is  other- 
wise healthy.  In  cases  of  continuous  ill-health  this 
attack  may  not  be  specifically  mentioned. 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  I  211 

The  cases  of  those  religious  confessants  whose  health 
has  on  the  whole  been  good,  are  few,  indeed,  in  com- 
parison with  those  we  have  just  reviewed.  Yet  they 
are  interesting  and  suggestive.  Marie  de  1'Incarna- 
tion  is  a  striking  instance,  for  she  writes  emphatic- 
ally that  she  was  ' '  never  ill. ' '  John  "Wesley,  that  pow- 
erful engine,  has  been  described  as  weak,  yet  he  did 
the  work  of  a  strong  man.  He  cannot  really  be  classed 
among  either  group.  Patrick  of  Ireland  was  vigor- 
ous; and  Tolstoi,  that  modern  mystic,  had  robust 
health.  So  had  Rolle  of  Hampole;  and  Dame  Ger- 
trude More  was  full  of  vitality  and  strength  until  the 
convent-life  depressed  her.  Henry  Ward  Beecher  had 
enlarged  tonsils  as  a  boy,  and  so  was  dull,  but  he  had 
excellent  health.  Billy  Bray,  despite  the  drink,  dis- 
played the  high  spirits  and  joyousness  of  a  well  per- 
son. Carre  de  Montgeron  was  strong  and  full  of  ar- 
dor for  the  life  of  the  senses.  Abelard  appears  to 
have  started  life  in  possession  of  an  admirable  con- 
stitution. Samuel  Hopkins  outgrew  his  fragility  and 
became  strong;  while  John  Murray's  naturally  good 
health  suffered  only  during  a  period  of  pious  excite- 
ment. Eather  by  way  of  supplement  than  illustra- 
tion, may  be  added  in  this  group  the  names  of  Sir 
Thomas  Browne  and  of  Frederic  Harrison.  The 
Quaker  Gurneys  of  Earlham  were  a  really  remarka- 
ble example  of  a  family  whose  emotional  religious 
feeling  is  coincident  with  health,  beauty,  and  strong 
physique,  to  say  nothing  of  high  spirits  and  intelli- 
gence. Among  other  confessants,  Cardinal  Newman 
seems  to  have  had  good  health  in  the  main ;  as  also  did 
the  Evangelist,  C.  G.  Finney,  whose  conversion-phe- 


RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

nomena  were  so  striking.  James  Lackington,  the  book- 
seller, was  a  healthy  person.  John  Livingstone  could 
ride  long  distances  without  fatigue,  and  had  many 
years  of  excellent  health.  Abuse  of  his  powers,  how- 
ever, had  its  effect  in  sundry  illnesses.  Among  the 
Quakers,  J.  Woolman,  though  a  cripple,  was  yet 
sturdy ;  while  John  Wigham,  Richard  Davies,  William 
Evans,  and  Thomas  Shillitoe  all  showed  a  normal 
physique.  The  Methodists,  William  Capers  and  Rich- 
ard  Rodda,  differ  from  the  majority  of  their  co-reli- 
gionists in  making  mention  of  good  health.  And 
among  others  J.  G.  Paton,  Oliver  Heywood,  and  Cal- 
vin himself,  had  excellent  health  and  vigor. 

The  confessants  who  exhibit  definite  abnormal  or 
pathological  characteristics,  must  needs  be  placed  in 
a  group  apart,  as  it  does  not  seem  quite  fair  to  classify 
and  compare  them  with  the  rank  and  file.  Helen  Kel- 
ler's case,  for  instance,  develops  several  facts  of  inter- 
est already  mentioned  in  these  pages.  The  religious 
education  and  growth  of  this  most  intelligent  young 
woman  took  place  under  special  conditions,  and  there- 
fore cannot  with  justice  be  compared  with  a  similar 
development  in  those  of  us  who  speak,  and  see,  and 
hear. 

There  should  also  be  classed  apart  those  persons 
whose  records  exhibit  signs  of  mental  derangement 
in  its  various  forms.  John  Dunton  "was  born  so 
diminutive  a  creature  that  a  quart-pot  could  contain 
the  whole  of  me."  Sickly  and  precocious  as  a  child, 
abnormal  as  a  youth,  his  record  foreshadows  in  its 
matter  and  style  the  insanity  of  his  later  years. 
Count  Lomenie  de  Brienne  (fits)  is  a  man  who  writes 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  I  213 

cheerfully  of  his  pious  feelings  during  lucid  intervals. 
Isaac  Williams 's  mind  was  clouded  by  a  peculiar  and 
obscure  nervous  malady,  indicated  in  his  record. 
Two  rare  Quaker  tracts  by  John  Pennyman  and  John 
Perrot,  show  their  writers  to  have  been  unbalanced; 
the  first  by  the  execution  of  Charles  I,  whereat  he  fell 
into  a  melancholy.  The  second  is  mere  religious 
raving,  and  is  signed  "From  the  prison  of  Madmen, 
in  the  City  of  Home."  Thomas  Laythe  is  a  Friend 
who  fasted  until  his  friends  were  alarmed  at  his  al- 
tered countenance.  David  Hall,  whose  ill-health 
has  been  noticed,  had  an  affection  like  the  palsy,  and 
ever  displayed  his  pious  zeal  in  a  manner  highly  ex- 
travagant. The  heredity  of  Joseph  Smith,  the  Mor- 
mon, points  to  bad  health  on  both  sides.  Students 
of  his  case  suspect  epilepsy ;  there  was  certainly  great 
weakness  and  exhaustion  in  his  fifteenth  year,  just 
before  his  first  vision.  Toward  the  end  of  his  life, 
such  remarks  as  ' 1 1  know  more  than  all  the  world  put 
together;  and  God  is  my  right-hand  man!"  savor  of 
dementia.  There  is  no  doubt  that  he  drank  to  excess 
and  was  otherwise  vicious.  Neither  is  there  any 
doubt  that  he  was  a  man  of  force  and  powerful 
physique.  The  cases  of  Crook  and  of  Fox  are  yet 
more  difficult  to  classify  than  that  of  Smith.  Un- 
doubtedly the  former  suffered  an  attack  of  melan- 
cholia with  suicidal  impulses,  but  its  extent  and  dura- 
tion are  not  easy  to  determine.  Fox  has  been  sus- 
pected of  epilepsy;  yet  the  truth  in  his  case  will  be 
found  hard  to  come  by.  There  seems  quite  as  much 
reason  to  suspect  Swedenborg,  of  whom  at  least  one 
convulsion  is  recorded.  No  one  to-day  can  read  the 


214.  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

"Spiritual  Diary/'  without  feeling  a  strong  doubt 
as  to  the  mental  balance  of  the  author.  J.  H.  Lins- 
ley  died  insane;  as  also  did  F.  Nietzsche  and  Pascal. 
The  latter  was  entirely  abnormal  from  childhood. 
Among  Methodists,  T.  Payne,  M.  Joyce,  and  W. 
Jackson  indicate  an  unbalanced  condition  by  their 
narrated  extravagances.  Jackson  had  had  severe 
blows  on  the  head  as  a  child;  his  document  displays 
a  wandering  style.  Joanna  Southcott  had  a  marked 
case  of  religious  mania  complicated  by  dropsy,  which 
she  persisted  in  considering  a  divine  pregnancy. 

John  B.  Gough 10  was  a  dipsomaniac,  who  struggled 
with  his  disease  much  as  if  it  had  been  that  personal 
demon  which  in  truth  it  seemed  to  the  "Monk  of 
Evesham,"  one  thousand  years  before.  Morbid  fear 
is  a  similar  demon  to  Andre  de  Lorde.  George 
Miiller  and  Frederick  Smith  were  vicious  to  the 
pathological  extreme.  The  "De  Profundis"  of  the 
gifted  Oscar  Wilde,  with  all  its  beauty  and  humility, 
cannot  save  its  author  from  being  charitably  set 
among  this  group.  A  passion  for  sensationalism  and 
for  minor  eccentricities  is  indicative  of  abnormality. 
It  is  shared  by  earlier,  similar  confessions,  notably 
that  of  George  Psalmanazar,11  the  impostor  in  the 
eighteenth  century,  and  of  W.  H.  Ireland,12  the  forger 
in  the  nineteenth. 

The  mention  of  Wilde  brings  us  without  further 
delay  to  the  whole  question  of  the  criminal  confession 
and  its  psychology.  This  is  a  subject  with  which,  as 
a  whole,  the  criminologist  alone  can  deal;  and  there- 
fore in  this  place  it  may  be  touched  upon  only  in  its 
relation  to  the  religious  confession.  This  relation  is 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  I  215 

curious  and  often  suggestive.  The  paucity  of  such 
serious  documents  as  come  within  the  limitations  im- 
posed by  this  study,  make  it  impossible  to  summon 
evidence  enough  to  display  this  relation  convincingly ; 
the  best  one  can  do  is  merely  to  point  here  and  there 
to  certain  material  of  comparison. 

In  the  first  place  that  extraordinary  indifference 
and  insensibility  which  is  shown  by  the  religious  con- 
fessant  toward  his  own  pain  and  suffering,  toward 
family  ties  and  the  claims  of  nature,  is  paralleled  by 
the  criminal  confessant  toward  the  subjects  of  his 
crime.  Salimbene's  indifference  toward  his  aged 
father,  Sainte-Chantal's  toward  her  children,  Gui- 
bert's  mother  toward  her  son,  is  really  the  same  indif- 
ference which  is  displayed  toward  his  victim  by  the 
Indian  Thug,13  to  whom  murder  is  religious;  or  by 
Lagenaire,14  who  observes  of  himself  that  he  never 
pitied  suffering.  Secondly,  one  would  do  well  to  con- 
sider the  high  degree  of  introspection  which  the  crim- 
inal records  possess.  Lagenaire's  self -analysis  is  com- 
plete; so  is  that  of  Henri  Charles,15  the  murderer 
of  Mme.  Gey  at  Sidi-Mabrouk ;  and  that  of  George 
Simon,16  a  youth  who  killed  his  mother  in  Pennsyl- 
vania. The  introspective  qualities  of  Eugene  Aram's 17 
narrative  interested  all  England:  in  it  he  denies  the 
guilt  he  afterwards  confessed.  The  famous  widow 
Lafarge  1S  (Marie  Cappelle),  whose  guilt  or  innocence 
is  even  to-day  a  matter  of  doubt,  fills  two  volumes  of 
memoirs  with  introspective  matter  that  proves  little 
except  that  she  was  a  neurotic  and  hysterical  person. 

Moreover,  this  degree  of  introspection  is  often  ac- 
companied with  mystical  and  religious  phenomena. 


216  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

Henri  Charles,  for  instance,  after  a  violent  revolu- 
tion during  puberty,  had  an  upheaval  from  doubt, 
and  then  became  extremely  mystical,  had  visions,  and 
loved  the  supernatural.  Leave  out  the  crime  and 
there  is  much  to  connect  this  case  with  that  of  John 
Crook  or  John  Bunyan.  Mme.  Lafarge  and  young 
Simon  also  appear  to  have  had  highly  developed  re- 
ligious sentiments.  In  fact,  so  mystical  and  intro- 
spective are  criminals  as  a  class,  that  a  book  has  been 
recently  compiled  in  France  entirely  from  material 
furnished  by  themselves.19  Unfortunately,  this  ma- 
terial is  not  sufficiently  accredited  for  use  in  these 
pages.  Nor  is  it  required,  if  the  reader  will  but  bear 
the  facts  just  suggested  in  his  mind,  when  he  comes 
to  the  later  discussion  of  the  causes  of  emotional  re- 
ligious experience. 

But  there  is  one  important  group  of  records  in 
which  the  criminal  and  the  religious  impulses  seem 
to  walk  actually  hand-in-hand,  in  a  way  that  to 
modern  ideas  seems  incredibly  hideous  and  strange. 
This  group  is  that  of  the  witchcraft  confessions  of 
the  Middle  Ages.  Nothing  serves  to  show  more 
significantly  how  far  our  ideals  have  travelled  from 
those  of  the  past,  than  the  feeling  which  these  trials 
and  confessions  rouse  in  our  minds  to-day.  Pity 
and  horror  and  repulsion  are  terms  all  too  weak  for 
its  expression,  when  we  see  by  this  malady  of  the 
human  mind  such  a  man  as  Sir  Matthew  Hale  brought 
down  to  the  level  of  the  African  savage,  screaming 
and  dancing  in  the  rites  of  Voodoo. 

Were  it  possible  to  obtain  a  series  of  the  original 
confessions  of  those  unfortunates  tried  for  witchcraft 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  I  217 

during  the  Middle  Ages, — a  series  extending  through 
the  centuries  in  almost  unbroken  sequence, — it  would 
be  easy  to  turn  what  is  now  matter  of  suggestion  into 
matter  of  proof.  Unfortunately,  all  influences  have 
united  to  prevent  these  records  from  remaining  in 
existence.  The  contagious  character  of  this  par- 
ticular form  of  hysteria  (which  the  Church  dimly 
recognized  without  knowing  the  explanation),  the  re- 
volting nature  of  the  crimes  confessed,  and  finally 
the  arbitrary  and  often  cruel  decisions  of  the  ec- 
clesiastical courts,  have  all  contributed  as  causes  to 
have  these  records  altered,  edited,  or  destroyed. 
Thus  one  reads  of  confessions  having  existed  of  which 
no  trace  remains.  Even  GO  early  as  1694,  the  Church 
was  making  anxious  efforts  to  destroy  all  testimonies 
of  non-accredited  mystics,  or  of  religious  impostors, 
or  of  heretics,  or  of  persons  accused  of  witchcraft.20 
Among  such  records  we  read  of  the  confession  of 
Magdalena  de  la  Cruz,  an  impostor  who  avowed  her 
deceits,  but  was  sentenced  with  leniency.21  Dr.  Lea 
gives  a  list  of  similar  cases  tried  and  punished  by  the 
Inquisition.  A  famous  confession  of  sorcery  is  that 
of  Jean  de  Vaux,22  in  1598,  in  France;  but  no  com- 
plete group  of  personal  narratives  belonging  to  this 
class  is  to  be  found  until  one  reaches  the  witchcraft 
epidemic  of  the  seventeenth  century. 

The  horror  which  these  confessions  of  possession 
and  devil-worship  inspired  among  their  contempo- 
raries, has  hardly  vanished  on  re-reading  to-day,  al- 
though it  has  shifted  its  ground.  The  judge  presid- 
ing at  the  trial  of  the  possessed  nun,  Marie  de  Sains 
(in  1613,  at  Yssel,  in  the  Low  Countries),  declared 


218J  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

that  in  all  his  sixty-five  years  he  had  never  heard  a 
more  atrocious  catalogue  of  crimes.  But  an  ex- 
amination of  the  confession  of  Marie  de  Sains  raises 
very  different  feelings  to-day.  The  accused  claims  to 
have  received  the  diabolical  stigmata;  and  to  have 
sacrificed  "hundreds"  of  young  infants  at  the  Devil's 
call.  Gorres  points  out  that  such  acts  were  highly 
difficult  for  a  cloistered  nun  to  perform  without  dis- 
covery; and  also  that  there  was  no  evidence  that  so 
many  children  had  disappeared  in  the  neighbor- 
hood.28 It  is  doubtful  if  the  judges  even  took  the 
trouble  to  verify  her  statements  by  sending  to  see  if 
such  and  such  children  had  really  been  murdered  at 
all.24  Here  seems  more  likely  a  case  of  perversion 
and  hysteria,  with  criminal  inclinations.  The  accused 
from  the  first  had  shown  an  evil  disposition,  and  had 
not  taken  the  veil  of  her  own  choice. 

Stripped  of  all  surrounding  clouds  of  superstition, 
these  cases  furnish  another  witness  to  the  sick  nerves 
of  the  ancient  world.  The  personal  records  of  these 
hystericals  fill  us  with  that  pity  and  horror  which 
the  healthy  and  sane  feel  for  the  sufferings  of  the 
unhealthy  and  the  insane.  Yet,  when  all  is  said,  the 
spectacle  presented  by  these  court-rooms — the  digni- 
fied judge  stricken  into  horror  by  the  ravings  of 
mere  vanity  and  hysteria — is  a  repulsive,  even  an 
indecent  one.  One  is  in  the  presence  of  a  topsy- 
turvy, devil-ridden  world,  a  world  without  logic,  and 
smitten  by  superstition  into  an  incoherency  which 
deprives  it  of  the  power  to  reason.  The  nun  'Jeanne 
Fery,  of  Cambrai,25  entreated  to  explain  just  how  the 
Devil  was  to  be  worshipped,  was  listened  to  by  learned 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  I  219 

and  mature  men  while  she  recited  the  details  of  a 
ritual,  puerile  and  disgusting  rather  than  blasphemous. 
The  Devil  had  told  her  to  do  exactly  the  opposite  of 
what  religion  commanded :  she  was  to  stand  when  she 
had  previously  been  taught  to  kneel,  say  the  Lord's 
Prayer  backward,  spit  upon  the  Host,  and  so  on. 
The  horror  of  her  judges,  the  efforts  of  priests  and 
exorcists,  drove  the  poor  creature  to  attempt  suicide ; 
and  thereafter,  her  mental  disease  progressing,  she 
became  melancholy  and  died  an  idiot.  Even  more 
pitiful  was  the  figure  of  the  nun  Madeleine  Bavent, 
of  Louviers,  because  of  her  pathetic  effort  to  explain 
and  limit  her  own  delusions.  She  insisted  that  she 
was  by  no  means  sure  of  the  objective  reality  of  what 
she  had  beheld  at  the  Witches'  Sabbat;  using  such 
phrases  as  "if  these  things  really  occurred." 26  Men- 
tal distress  (she  had  been  seduced  by  her  confessor) 
had  been  the  cause  of  the  first  attack.  In  the  same 
convent  at  Louviers,  the  contagion  became  widespread, 
and  another  sufferer,  Marie  de  Saint  Sacrement,  has 
left  a  similar,  written  confession.27 

Contemporaneously  with  the  outbreak  of  epidemic 
hysteria  at  Louviers,  a  similar  epidemic  occurred  at  the 
convent  of  Loudun,  which,  by  reason  of  its  notoriety 
has  provided  us  with  much  typical  material  for  analy- 
sis. We  have  the  complete  history  of  the  nine  pos- 
sesse.d  nuns  at  Loudun,  whose  ravings  that  he  had  be- 
witched them,  sent  to  the  stake  their  confessor,  Urbain 
Grandier.  Some  years  before  (in  1610),  the  priest 
Louis  Gauffridi  had  gone  to  his  last  account  as 
the  result  of  his  infamous  treatment  of  the  twelve- 
year-old  Magdalena  de  la  Palude.  The  trial  of 


220  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

Gauffridi,  so  vividly  recounted  by  Michelet,28  does 
not,  however,  provide  us  with  the  personal  records 
necessary  to  the  present  study;  whereas,  at  Loudun, 
there  are  extant,  not  only  the  full  confessions  of  the 
Mere  Jeanne  des  Anges,  in  whom  the  malady  centred, 
but  also  those  of  her  exorcizer  and  fellow-sufferer,  Pere 
Surin.29  The  former  autobiography  has  been  edited 
by  two  French  alienists,  (with  a  preface  by  Charcot), 
who  speak  of  its  wealth  of  instructive  detail;  and 
who  make  entirely  plain  to  the  reader  the  cause  and 
the  progress  of  the  writer's  disease.30 

The  Mere  Jeanne  was  not  without  strength  of  char- 
acter, although  naturally  morbid  and  predisposed  to 
hysteria.  She  is  forty  at  the  time  this  document  was 
composed,  but  she  gives  some  account  of  her  youth 
(in  which  she  does  not  spare  herself)  and  of  her  entry 
into  the  religious  life.  Although  intelligent  and  fac- 
ile, she  was  vain  and  given  to  frivolity ;  and  she  men- 
tions that  from  the  age  of  fifteen  her  extravagances 
had  worried  her  family.  The  vividness  of  her  nar- 
rative— with  its  visions  of  lions  and  devils,  the  pell- 
mell  of  good  and  bad  angels,  the  torment  of  unholy 
whispers  in  the  night,  those  "desirs  dereglees  des 
choses  deshonnestes, "  hold  an  intensity  for  us  even 
when  read  in  the  light  of  our  modern  knowledge. 
Her  director  was  the  Pere  Surin,  called  the  unfortu- 
nate "Man  of  God";  a  youth  of  fragile  health  and 
austere  practices,  who  fell  a  ready  victim  to  the  con- 
tagion. By  exorcism  he  drove  from  the  poor  woman, 
in  a  series  of  violent  convulsions,  several  of  the  de- 
mons by  whom  she  believed  herself  to  be  possessed. 
The  worst  devil  of  them  all,  who  called  himself  Isa- 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  I  221 

caaron,  now  entered  into  the  exorcizer,  who  had  by  this 
time  become  thoroughly  unhinged.  He  in  his  turn 
began  to  have  visions,  torments,  temptations,  and  con- 
vulsions, and  these  two  unfortunates  acted  and  reacted 
upon  each  other,  to  the  point  almost  of  frenzy. 

After  several  years  the  Mere  Jeanne  recovered. 
The  priest  remained  in  a  condition  of  complete  melan- 
cholia until  but  a  short  time  before  he  died.  While 
the  excitement  was  at  its  height,  the  pair  made  a  sort 
of  pilgrimage,  during  which  they  spread  the  contagion 
of  their  hysteria  far  and  wide,  and  they  report  that  in 
every  town  they  visited,  certain  of  the  more  weakly- 
minded  had  hysterical  attacks,  or  convulsions,  or  were 
possessed  by  devils.  The  evidence  contained  in  the 
Mere  Jeanne's  confession,  even  without  the  comment 
and  the  diagnosis  of  the  modern  specialist,  is  seen  to 
be  full,  conclusive,  and  complete,  from  its  beginning 
in  sporadic  erotic  hysteria,  to  its  savage  progress  and 
its  contagious  development. 

The  possession  of  the  Mere  Jeanne  is  of  especial  in- 
terest when  we  contrast  its  progress  and  development 
with  similar  conditions  present  in  minds  of  a  more 
robust  calibre.  Belief  in  devils  and  in  their  ability 
to  attack  and  control  human  actions  was,  it  must  not 
be  forgotten,  by  no  means  confined  to  the  hysterical.  It 
was,  on  the  contrary,  absolutely  universal,  the  prop- 
erty alike  of  intellectual  persons  and  of  the  truly  and 
deeply  religious.  It  was  maintained  by  a  judge  like 
Sir  Matthew  Hale,  by  a  lawyer  like  George  Sinclar,  by 
a  mathematician  like  Cardan,  and  by  a  learned  student 
like  Meric  Casaubon.31  Luther,  than  whom  no  health- 
ier mind  ever  existed,  held  it  fully.  He  attributed  all 


222  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

thunderstorms  to  the  direct  agency  of  the  Devil ; 32 
and  he  remarks  that  it  was  largely  through  fear  of  the 
Evil  One  that  he  became  a  monk.33  Yet  mark  the 
situation,  as  depicted  by  his  attitude  and  that  of  the 
"possedees ' '  just  analyzed !  "On  Good  Friday  last, ' ' 
remarks  Luther,  "I  being  in  my  chamber  in  fervent 
prayer  .  .  .  there  suddenly  appeared  upon  the  wall  a 
bright  vision  of  our  Saviour,  with  five  wounds,  stead- 
fastly looking  upon  me  as  if  it  had  been  Christ  himself 
corporally.  At  first  sight  I  thought  it  had  been  some 
celestial  revelation,  but  I  reflected  that  it  must  needs 
be  an  illusion  and  juggling  of  the  Devil,  for  Christ 
appeared  to  me  in  his  word  in  a  humbler  form,  there- 
fore I  spake  to  the  vision  thus — ''Avoid  thee,  con- 
founded Devil/ — whereupon  the  image  vanished, 
clearly  showing  whence  it  came. ' ' 34 

A  further  anecdote,  less  well  vouched  for,  is  yet 
equally  characteristic.  * '  Another  time  in  the  night, ' ' 
writes  Luther, '  *  I  heard  him  above  my  cell  walking  on 
the  cloister,  but  as  I  knew  it  ivas  the  Devil,  I  paid  no 
attention  to  him  and  went  to  sleep."  However  com- 
pletely Luther  may  have  believed  in  that  mediaeval  gro- 
tesque, he  had  undoubtedly  learned  the  one  vital  fact 
concerning  him,  namely,  that  he  must  be  noticed  in 
order  to  exist.  To  ignore  the  Devil,  as  Luther 
found,  was  to  dispose  of  him  altogether;  for  so  sensi- 
tive is  the  Prince  of  Darkness,  that  he  was  never  able 
to  stand  a  slight.  In  the  attention  paid  him  by  such 
confessants  as  Marie  de  Sains,  or  the  Mere  Jeanne,  or 
Suso,  or  Mme.  Guyon,  he  thrived  apace,  as  we 
have  read ;  but  under  such  general  contempt  as  Luther 
gave  him,  he  could  not  have  lived  an  hour.  These 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  I  223 

old- wives'  tales  should  bring  us  more  than  a  merely 
curious  interest  to-day,  by  teaching  us  that  the  vitality 
of  all  superstition  lies  wholly  and  solely  in  that  mind 
by  which  it  is  infected — the  will  alone  gives  it  life. 
Interesting  is  it  also  to  see  that  what  many  of  our 
mystical  confessants  would  have  accepted  with  rap- 
ture, as  a  visionary  proof  of  heavenly  favor,  Luther 
considered  an  ignoble  illusion  and  so  dismissed  it. 
Never  was  there  a  more  complete  manifestation  of  the 
subjective  nature  of  these  phenomena. 

When  Jonathan  Edwards  35  became  the  historian  of 
what  is  known  as  the  " Great  Revival"  in  New  Eng- 
land, he  described  it  as  starting  in  1735  from  one  small 
village,  and  thence  spreading,  "with  fresh  and  ex- 
traordinary incomes  of  the  Spirit,"  to  the  neighbor- 
ing communities.  So  plain  and  vivid  is  the  evidence 
of  religious  contagion  in  Edwards 's  narrative,  that  it 
is  well-nigh  impossible  to  believe  his  powerful  mind  did 
not  recognize  the  fact.  Who  knows  how  his  views 
might  have  shifted  had  he  been  able  to  read,  as  have 
we,  the  confessions  of  the  Mere  Jeanne,  or  of  the  other 
"possedees"  of  Loudun  or  of  Louviers?  Yet  even 
to-day,  the  presence  and  the  power  of  this  force  re- 
main often  undetermined.  It  has  come  to  be  under- 
stood in  its  extreme  forms,  where  it  is  allied  to  hys- 
teria or  other  nervous  disorder;  but  as  a  factor  in 
more  normal  instances,  it  is  too  frequently  neglected  or 
obscured. 

Analysis  of  the  religious  revival  and  its  attendant 
phenomena,  belongs  properly  to  a  later  section  of  this 
book,36  where  it  will  be  found  to  bear  an  especial 
weight  and  significance.  Its  general  data  being  his- 


224  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

torical  and  impersonal,  it  cannot  be  placed  in  juxta- 
position to  the  evidence  furnished  by  the  individual 
confessant.  This  evidence,  furthermore,  is  not  always 
easy  to  recognize.  No  one  likes  to  think  that  the  most 
sacred  and  moving  influences  in  his  life  were  the  result 
of  contagion;  it  is  not  an  idea  flattering  to  one's  self- 
esteem.  Therefore,  he  is  apt  to  overlook  such  evi- 
dence to  that  effect  as  may  exist,  and  to  concentrate 
his  attention,  as  we  have  seen  the  truly  religious  must, 
solely  upon  his  individual  phenomena.  Even  if  the 
confessant  acknowledges  that  the  Holy  Spirit  is  no- 
tably concerned  with  the  welfare  of  a  certain  group  of 
persons  during  a  revival,  yet  he  invariably  believes 
that  he  himself  is  set  apart  to  be  an  object  of  the 
Lord's  particular  solicitude.  He  never  seems,  to  him- 
self, to  have  fallen  under  the  influence  of  direct  con- 
tagion. 

Cases  where  the  subject  became  a  member  of  a  re- 
ligious community  during  early  childhood,  indicate  un- 
doubtedly their  submission  to  the  contagion  of  sur- 
rounding influences.  Particularly  noticeable  are 
those  whose  original  character  and  temperament  were 
not  specially  predisposed  to  a  religious  life,  such  as 
Dame  Gertrude  More,  Angelique  Arnauld,  Teresa  of 
Avila,  Hildegarde  of  Bingen,  Mechtilde  of  Hackeborn, 
Gertrude  of  Eisleben,  Jeanne  de  S.  M.  Deleloe,  Gui- 
bert  de  Nogent,  Peter  Favre,  among  Catholics;  and 
Edmund  Gosse  among  Dissenters.  Salimbene,  as  a 
boy  of  twelve,  underwent  the  contagion  of  that  thir- 
teenth-century revival  known  as  the  " Great  Alleluia," 
and  no  tears  shed  by  his  old  father  could  keep  him 
from  the  monastery.  The  evangelist,  Peter  Cart- 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  I  225 

wright,  precedes  the  account  of  his  own  conversion  by 
a  description  of  the  wave  of  religious  feeling  which 
swept  the  community  where  he  lived.  He  notes,  dur- 
ing one  revival  meeting,  an  epidemic  of  "the  jerks." 37 
These  epidemics  were  especially  influential  upon  the 
conversion  of  certain  Mormon  cases,  such  as  Orson 
and  Parley  Pratt,  and  Benjamin  Brown. 

Direct  contagion  is  easily  traceable  in  modern  docu- 
ments. Peter  Jones,  an  Indian  brave,  is  stirred  to 
unbecoming  tears  while  attending  a  Methodist  revival 
meeting.  William  Ashman  had  been  unmoved  for 
some  years,  until,  when  eleven  years  old,  he  attended  a 
meeting  along  with  many  other  children,  during  a  sea- 
son of  general  revival.  All  are  melted  and  changed. 
Similarly,  John  Pawson  is  moved  much  beyond  his 
wont  by  the  contagion  of  the  group  of  worshippers, 
with  whom  he  joins  in  meeting  and  prayer.  Christo- 
pher Hopper,  noting  the  clamor  made  about  religion 
among  his  friends,  observes,  "I  made  my  bustle  with 
the  rest."  He  went  to  hear  Wesley  and  Reeves,  and 
was  generally  roused  by  the  prevalent  zeal  to  see  the 
light  and  to  preach.  E.  N.  Kirk  is  worried  because 
he  seems  to  himself  so  little  touched  by  a  revival  at 
Princeton,  when  he  is  seventeen.  But  he  is  so  far 
affected  as  to  take  the  Bible  and  Pilgrim's  Progress 
and  retire  to  his  room,  determined  (on  the  advice  of  a 
pious  friend)  never  to  leave  it,  "save  as  a  Chris- 
tian or  a  corpse."  In  the  same  way,  during  a  re- 
vival at  Yale,  does  Gardiner  Spring  "wrestle  with 
God."  Camp-meeting  contagion  moves  to  swoon- 
ing the  frail  and  tuberculous  Joseph  Thomas.  The 
modern  student  of  religious  psychology  has  come 


226  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

more  and  more  to  take  into  account  that  important  law 
which  LeBon  defines  as  ' '  the  mental  unity  of  crowds. ' ' 
So  recent  a  writer  as  Dr.  Cutten 38  is  careful  to  note 
the  contagious  nature  of  all  emotional  states;  and  in 
particular  those  of  mysticism  and  of  ecstasy. 

When  the  procurable  facts  concerning  the  confes- 
sants*  health,  education,  and  heredity  have  been  gath- 
ered together,  it  must  be  surely  less  difficult  to  eluci- 
date his  feelings  on  the  subject  of  his  religion.  rJust 
as  the  physician,  ere  he  completes  his  examination, 
must  needs  inform  himself  of  the  patient's  general 
health,  habits,  and  history  before  the  attack,  so  have 
we  endeavored  to  inform  ourselves.  The  advantage  of 
this  method  (however  tedious  it  may  seem)  lies  in 
our  ability  to  take  hold  of  the  mystical  data  by 
the  proper  end.  No  longer  do  these  facts  seem 
isolated  or  peculiar,  but  rather  do  they  fit  into 
a  scheme  of  general  history,  and  become  component 
parts  possessing  a  definite  individuality.  Thus  we  do 
not  examine  merely  the  visions  of  Loyola  or  Teresa, 
but  also  such  facts  in  the  history  of  these  two  persons 
as  exist  coincident  with,  and  commenting  upon,  their 
mysticism.  Not  only  is  the  conversion  of  Bunyan  or 
Augustin  made  the  subject  of  our  study,  but  the  causes 
leading  to  it,  and  the  character  which  evolved  it.  The 
religious  ideas  of  Swedenborg  have  much  less  sig- 
nificance alone  than  when  they  are  taken  in  relation  to 
his  family  history,  education,  and  physical  condition. 
Thus,  the  facts  which  are  to  follow,  and  in  which  these 
confessants  believe  lie  their  chief  message  and  main 
value,  cease  to  be  bizarre  and  capricious  phenomena, 
but  instead  become  a  part  of  the  coherent  miracle  of 
human  nature  and  human  imagination. 


VI 

THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  U 


I.  Early  piety. 
II.  Late  piety. 

III.  Conversion. 

(a)  Methods. 

(b)  Depression. 

IV.  The  unpardonable  sin. 


VI 

THE  DATA  ANALYZED:    II 

THE  confessants  in  whom  piety  was  strongly  marked 
in  childhood  are  greatly  in  the  majority;  and  there 
is  no  part  of  their  records  so  interesting  as  that  which 
tells  of  the  sprouting  of  this  seed.  Those  who  under- 
went a  subsequent  relapse  into  indifference,  are  apt  to 
point  to  these  earlier  inclinations  as  to  the  first  mani- 
festations of  Grace.  Others  take  them  merely  as  proof 
of  divine  heritage ;  while  there  are  some  in  whom  the 
religious  feeling  progresses  without  break  or  reaction, 
from  infantile  emotion  to  mature  devotion. 

The  attitude  of  certain  cases  toward  their  own  child- 
ish sentiments  is  suggestive.  Though  Richard  Baxter 
told  lies  and  stole  apples,  yet,  when  "a  little  Boy  in 
Coats,"  if  he  heard  any  one  among  his  playmates  use 
profane  words,  he  would  rebuke  him.  At  seven, 
Thomas  Boston  was  taking  the  Bible  to  bed  with  him ; 
although  he  thinks  this  was  done  largely  out  of  a  spirit 
of  curiosity.  "I  was  of  a  sober  and  harmless  deport- 
ment, ' '  he  adds ;  '  *  at  no  time  vicious  or  roguish. ' '  He 
was  a  good-sized  child  when  he  set  "to  pray  in  ear- 
nest." It  is  interesting  to  read  that  his  little  son 
Thomas  (cet.  seven)  "was  found  sensible  of  the  stir- 
rings of  corruption  in  his  heart,"  and  had  to  be  prayed 
over  and  wrestled  with  by  his  parents,  in  the  manner 

229 


230  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

of  those  days.  The  entire  family  of  the  Gurneys  of 
Earlham  were  religious  self-analysts  from  infancy. 
At  eleven,  Louisa  writes  in  her  journal :  "I  had  a  cloud 
over  me.  ...  I  am  determined  to  be  religious. " 
Bishop  Joseph  Hall  was  deeply  fervent  as  a  tiny  child. 
Hildegarde  of  Bingen,  who  saw  a  great  light  at  three, 
offered  herself  to  God  at  eight  and  took  the  vows. 
J.  H.  Newman  took  a  childish  delight  in  his  Bible, 
though  he  had  no  formed  convictions  before  he  was  fif- 
teen. He  had  a  firm  belief  in  angels  and  in  demons.  His 
brother  Francis  began  secret  prayer  at  eleven  years 
old.  The  gently  pious  Henry  Alline  "was  very  early 
moved  upon  by  the  spirit  of  God,"  and  at  eight  grew 
terribly  distressed  about  hell.  Emanuel  Swedenborg 
we  know  to  have  been  middle-aged  ere  he  became  really 
concerned  with  the  subject  of  religion ;  yet  he  remarks 
that  from  four  to  ten  years  his  mind  was  engrossed  with 
thoughts  of  God  and  salvation.  John  Eudes  was  early 
pious  and  became  a  novice  at  fourteen.  J.  de  la  Fon- 
taine summoned  his  family  to  prayer  at  four.  Augus- 
tin  makes  few  comments  on  his  infant  piety,  though 
many  on  his  infant  wickedness.  "So  small  a  boy,  so 
great  a  sinner ! "  is  his  cry.  But  he  avows  that  on  fall- 
ing seriously  ill,  he  asked  for  baptism.  At  five  or  six 
years  old,  Bellarmin  preached  on  Jesus'  suffering. 
Annie  Besant,  whose  shifts  of  creed  are  interesting, 
notes  of  her  childhood:  "I  was  the  stuff  of  which 
fanatics  are  made,  religious  to  the  very  finger-tips 
...  I  fasted  and  occasionally  flagellated  myself." 
Jeanne  de  St.  M.  Deleloe  loved,  when  a  baby,  to  play 
the  nun.  The  picture  of  Robert  Blair's  ardent  child- 
ish feeling  has  already  been  dwelt  upon  in  another 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  II  231 

book.1  It  is  one  of  much  beauty  and  pathos.  At  six, 
"the  Lord  awed  me  and  began  to  catechize  me";  and 
after  an  early  religious  crisis,  he  further  says:  "I 
durst  never  play  upon  the  Lord's  day."  Charles 
Bray,  the  friend  of  George  Eliot,  turned  early  toward 
religion.  However,  his  conversion  was  followed  by 
a  reaction  which  terminated  in  agnosticism.  Says 
Thomas  Chalkley :  "  Between  eight  and  ten,  the  Lord 
began  to  work  strongly  on  my  mind,  insomuch  that 
I  could  not  forbear  reproving  those  lads  who  would 
take  the  name  of  God  in  their  mouths  in  vain. ' '  Ste- 
phen Crisp,  at  nine  or  ten,  "sought  the  power  of  God 
with  great  diligence  and  earnestness,  with  strong  cries 
and  tears."  He  worried  much  over  "the  lost  state" 
of  his  playmates,  and  went  to  sermons  as  other  chil- 
dren to  sports  and  pastime.  He  was  only  twelve,  when, 
in  secret  fields  and  unusual  places,  he  poured  out  his 
complaints  to  the  Lord.  'John  Crook  describes  a  sim- 
ilar state.  "I  had  many  exercises  in  my  inward 
man,"  he  writes  of  himself  at  ten  or  eleven,  "and 
often  prayed  in  bye-corners.  .  .  .  Strong  combatings 
remained  within  me,  which  continued  haunting  of  me 
many  months."  "In  my  very  young  years,"  George 
Fox  beautifully  writes,  "I  had  a  gravity  and  stayed- 
ness  of  mind  and  spirit  not  usual  in  children  .  .  . 
when  I  came  to  eleven  years  of  age  I  knew  pureness 
and  righteousness."  He  adds,  with  unusual  candour 
in  a  person  anxious  to  represent  himself  as  a  miser- 
able sinner:  "People  had  generally  a  love  to  me  for 
my  innocency  and  honesty. ' '  Edmund  Gosse  's  history 
of  a  father  and  son  gives  an  extraordinarily  vivid  and 
telling  picture  of  exaggerated  childish  piety.  He 


232  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

is  baptized  a  Plymouth  Brother  at  ten,  and  during  all 
his  earlier  years  is  wholly  occupied  with  religious 
excitement.  The  after  development  of  this  case  is 
toward  free-thought.  The  abbot  Guibert  de  Nogent 
inherited  religious  tendencies  to  mysticism ;  and  is  only, 
eleven  when  he  enters  a  monastery,  full  of  remorse 
for  his  sins.  Horrible  dreams  and  visions  of  despair 
beset  his  youth  thereafter,  in  the  mediaeval  manner. 
Jeanne  de  la  Mothe-Guyon  was  put  in  a  convent  at 
two  and  a  half  years.  It  seems  more  childish  than 
pious  that  she  loved  '  *  to  hear  of  God,  to  be  at  Church, 
and  drest  in  the  habit  of  a  little  nun."  The  piety 
soon  developed  into  an  overcharged  infantile  fervor; 
she  confessed  at  four,  and  loved,  like  Teresa,  to  play 
at  martyrdom.  Her  devotion  steadily  progresses  in 
fanaticism :  at  fifteen,  she  depicts  herself  as  persecuted 
by  every  one  for  her  zeal.  This  atmosphere  of  re- 
ligious overstrain  in  childhood  brings  frequently  a 
violent  relapse  long  ere  conversion :  so  it  did  to  A.  J.  C. 
Hare.  The  Friends  were  almost  without  exception 
infant  zealots,  and  none  more  so  than  Joseph  Hoag. 
"Very  early  in  life  I  was  favored  with  Divine  visita- 
tions, ' '  he  writes,  and  from  nine  to  twelve,  '  *  I  had  many 
clear  openings."  Another  Quaker,  Francis  Howgill, 
from  twelve  read  and  meditated,  decided  that  all  sports 
and  pastimes  are  vain,  tried  to  convert  his  boy  com- 
rades. Lutfullah,  the  Mohammedan,  knew  his  Koran 
at  six,  and  by  seven  he  was  respected  by  all  as 
a  little  priest.  The  mind  of  Dr.  Henry  More,  when  he 
went  to  Eton  at  thirteen,  was  preoccupied  with  specu- 
lations about  hell  and  God.  St.  Patrick  was  a  herd- 
boy  in  the  fields  when  God's  voice  called  him.  Bishop 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  II  233 

Symon  Patrick's  account  of  his  childish  " godly  prin- 
ciples" is  naif.  "I  had  an  early  sense  of  religion 
(blessed  be  God)  imprinted  on  my  mind,  which  was 
much  increased  by  my  attending  to  sermons.  . .  .  Hear- 
ing a  rigid  sermon  about  reprobation  of  the  greatest 
part  of  mankind,  I  remember  well  that  when  I  was  a 
little  boy,  I  resolved  if  that  were  true  I  would  never 
marry  because  most,  if  not  all,  my  children  might  be 
damned. "  "Other  deliverances  I  had  in  my  very 
young  years,"  he  says,  on  recovering  from  an  illness 
at  twelve.  Jane  Pearson  had  a  "godly  sorrow"  as 
a  child,  with  deep  sense  of  privation  and  emptiness. 
Walter  Pringle  prayed  very  early,  acknowledging  the 
Lord  in  lessons  and  in  play.  Salimbene's  conversion 
was  at  twelve,  but  he  gives  no  coherent  account  of 
his  piety  in  childhood.  M.  A.  Schimmelpenninck  con- 
nects her  early  outbursts  of  fervent  feeling  with  the 
state  of  her  health.  The  Lord  worked  very  early  in 
Job  Scott's  heart;  in  meeting  he  had  "serious  impres- 
sions and  contemplations";  also  the  heart  of  Oliver 
Sansom  was  similarly  * '  broken  and  tendered. ' '  Inward 
fear  so  agitated  Elizabeth  Stirredge  before  she  was  ten, 
that  she  took  no  delight  in  the  things  of  this  world. 
H.  Suso  gives  no  details  of  his  childhood,  save  that  its 
piety  was  joyous.  It  is  mostly  from  others  that  we 
have  the  charming  stories  of  Teresa's  childhood,  and 
know  that  she  early  turned  her  eyes  to  divine  things. 
Anna  van  Schurman  was  four  when  she  was  penetrated 
with  joy  at  the  religious  instructions  of  her  nurse. 
But  her  interests  were  chiefly  intellectual  and  artistic 
until  later.  Isaac  Williams  in  childhood  was  much 
affected  by  the  transitory  nature  of  things.  Sentences 


RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

of  Sherlock  "On  Death "  haunted  him  like  strains  of 
music.  Gentle  John  Woolman  was  troubled  by  the  ill 
language  of  boy  friends,  and  says:  "Before  I  was 
seven,  I  began  to  be  acquainted  with  the  operations  of 
Divine  love."  He  is  so  tender  of  heart  that  when  he 
killed  a  robin  it  marked  an  epoch  in  his  life.  Patrick 
Livingstone  "was  frightened  out  of  sleep,"  and,  like 
Charles  Marshall,  notes  that  he  abhorred  sin  and  loved 
godliness  "at  a  very  tender  age."  Edith  Jefferis 
wept  and  was  tendered  in  meeting  at  the  age  of  six. 
Thomas  Wilson  and  Mary  Alexander  showed  piety 
when  still  extremely  young;  the  last  was  "visited 
with  the  heart-tendering  power  of  the  Lord." 

John  Conran's  first  religious  experience  is  as 
instructive  as  Eobert  Blair's  with  the  milk-posset. 
"At  thirteen,"  he  writes,  "in  company  with  some 
of  my  school-fellows,  I  drank  some  sweet  liquor 
.  .  .  which  overcame  me.  After  I  was  in  bed  I  felt 
close  convictions  take  hold  of  me  and  make  me  sor- 
rowful. These  were  .  .  .  succeeded  by  great  terrors 
of  death.  This  dispensation  lasted  about  fifteen  min- 
utes." These  two  cases  form  a  suggestive  instance 
of  the  way  in  which  the  pietist  tends  to  look  to 
metaphysical  causes  for  the  explanation  of  his  facts, 
instead  of  to  the  physical  causes.  The  readiness 
to  do  this  is  carried  far  beyond  the  mere  effects  of 
milk-punch  or  shrub,  and  accounts  for  many  inter- 
esting statements  of  "misinterpreted  observation." 
The  Quaker  John  Churchman  was  overcome  and  ten- 
dered in  meeting  at  eight  years  old;  and  at  the  same 
age  Catherine  Phillips  was  completely  overwhelmed 
with  her  sense  of  guilt  and  sin  toward  the  Holy 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  II  235 

Ghost.  Books  on  martyrs  frightened  this  poor  child 
terribly.  In  the  same  way  was  John  Griffith  fa- 
vored with  "heart-searching  visitations  of  God's 
love,"  and  remembered  the  effect  on  "my  tender,  weak 
mind."  Mildred  Katcliff,  at  nine,  had  a  dreadful 
dream  of  the  Adversary  to  upset  her  nerves.  Al- 
though Stephen  Grellet  had  no  instruction,  yet  he 
early  showed  his  religious  inclinations.  The  same 
piety,  at  the  age  of  six  to  eight,  is  noted  by  'John  Wig- 
ham,  Joseph  Pike,  Mary  Dudley,  S.  Tucker,  D.  Stan- 
ton,  Mary  Hagger,  and  Anna  Braithwaite,  who  con- 
sidered meeting  a  privilege.  At  six,  Henry  Hull 
thinks  his  religious  views  were  imperfect,  though  he 
was  much  impressed  at  meeting;  and  George  Bewley 
was  "sensible  of  inward  reproof  and  sorrow,"  when 
he  played  too  long.  Ann  Crowley,  while  yet  young  in 
years,  remembered  seasons  of  humiliation;  and  God 
visits  John  Gratton  when  he  is  a  shepherd,  and 
bids  him  leave  his  play  with  rude  boy  comrades.  Sam- 
uel Neale  wept  and  was  tendered  at  a  very  early  age, 
and  all  his  childhood  was  grave  and  sedate.  Thomas 
Story  early  inclined  toward  solitude  and  pious  medi- 
tations. Ambrose  Rigge  was  ten  or  twelve  when  his 
heart  was  touched  "with  a  sense  of  my  latter  end." 
John  Fothergill  loved  meeting  when  a  little  boy,  until 
he  took  "a  worldly  turn." 

Since  information  on  this  subject  is,  of  course,  the 
starting-point  of  almost  every  confessant,  it  neces- 
sarily follows  that  our  data  should  be  very  abundant. 
To  pass  and  re-pass  it  as  we  have  done,  may  have  the 
disadvantage  of  tediousness,  but  it  is  quite  essential  to 
its  proper  understanding.  Only  when  a  typical  char- 


236  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

acteristic  can  be  as  well  understood  by  ten  examples 
as  by  a  hundred,  are  we  warranted  in  making  any 
selection;  but  where  our  study  is  of  a  condition,  we 
are  obliged  to  examine  all  of  its  component  parts, 
that  the  charge  of  picking  and  choosing  what  is  most 
representative  or  best  fitted  to  our  purpose  may  not 
be  brought  against  us.  On  the  question  of  childish 
piety,  the  Quakers,  as  we  see,  have  furnished  us  with 
an  enormous  number  of  examples;  it  being  in  their 
opinion  the  especial  manifestation  of  God's  grace  to 
that  sect,  that  they  should  be  as  so  many  infant  Sam- 
uels. These  are  in  nowise  so  numerous  among  the 
Methodist  and  Congregational  cases,  who,  on  the  con- 
trary, are  rather  more  apt  to  record  sudden  and  un- 
foreseen religious  manifestations.  Still,  they  are  to 
be  found  if  we  look.  A  sense  of  death  and  judgment 
with  other  awful  feelings,  oppressed  David  Marks  at 
four ;  and  likewise,  Luther  Rice  was  a  fervent  and  dis- 
tressed infant.  * '  From  earliest  days  the  Lord  worked 
powerfully"  on  the  mind  of  Thomas  Lee.  Richard 
Rodda  was  four  when  he  felt  the  stirrings  of  grace, 
while  to  William  Hunter  these  seemed  the  "  sweet 
drawings  of  love."  By  Thomas  Payne,  the  stirrings 
of  God's  love  were  noticed  long  ere  ten,  when  he  wished 
to  be  truly  religious.  " Awful  thoughts  of  God"  and 
''strong  convictions"  came  during  their  infancy  both 
to  Peter  Jaco  and  to  Thomas  Mitchell.  Bird's-nesting 
on  a  Sunday  brought  an  intense  remorse  to  Joseph 
Travis,  which  started  him  in  the  way  of  religious 
thoughts.  Lorenzo  Dow  describes  a  very  typical  child- 
ish state  when  he  says  that  at  three  or  four  he  fell  into 
a  muse  about  God,  and  asked  about  heaven  and  hell. 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  II  237 

By  ten  years  old  he  had  begun  to  worry  about  death. 
Nor  are  we  surprised  to  hear  from  John  Allen  that 
his  serious  thoughts,  in  childhood,  were  produced  dur- 
ing thunderstorms  or  from  hearing  the  passing-bell. 
Deeply  serious  children  were  Richard  Whatcoat, 
George  Shadford,  George  Story,  and  James  Rogers. 
This  last — poor  baby ! — at  three, '  'on  hearing  a  passing- 
bell  or  seeing  a  corpse  [ !]  ...  became  very  thought- 
ful and  asked  pertinent  questions  about  my  future 
state. ' '  Both  M.  Joyce  and  John  Furz  chiefly  enlarge 
upon  the  terrible  consequences  of  their  intense,  child- 
ish fear.  From  six  to  fourteen,  John  Pritchard  could 
weep  and  pray  by  the  hour  together,  while  at  the  same 
age  William  Black  was  troubled  with  the  idea  of  his 
sinfulness.  William  Ashman,  a  child,  heard  Wesley 
preach  and  thought  the  end  of  the  world  was  at  hand. 
The  Lord  strove  with  him  from  four  to  five,  but  he 
was  eleven  before  he  was  melted.  One  Sunday,  hear- 
ing Revelations  read,  the  boy  John  Nelson  nearly  had 
convulsions  from  terror.  Mary  Fletcher  was  wholly 
concerned  with  religious  ideas  from  her  earliest  years, 
and  at  four,  her  mind  was  occupied  with  her  eternal 
welfare.  At  the  age  of  three  to  four,  Peard  Dickinson 
"was  drawn  out  in  prayer."  Terror,  as  in  so  many 
cases,  is  the  dominant  thought  of  Joshua  Marsden's 
infancy;  while  to  William  Neill,  whose  parents  were 
American  pioneers,  fear  of  the  Indian  and  of  the 
Devil  was  synonymous.  (This  last  case,  it  should  be 
noted,  however,  does  not  state  that  this  terror  de- 
noted any  early  religious  stirrings.)  Jotham  Sewall, 
from  three  to  six,  is  most  interested  in  pious  subjects. 
While  playing  in  the  fields,  William  Wilson  was 


238  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

brought  into  a  strange  amazement  and  asked:  "How 
came  I  here;  who  made  me?"  This  was  followed 
'  *  by  an  inward  sense  of  sin,  and  he  did  pray  much. ' ' 
Barnes  Melvill  at  eight  to  nine  did  pray  and  rebuke 
the  profane.  Oliver  Taylor  remembered  how  at  six  to 
seven  "my  thoughts  were  much  on  God,  and  my  soul." 
No  one  can  forget  that  Sainte-Chantal,  an  infant, 
would  not  be  caressed  by  a  heretic  without  weeping, 
while  at  five,  she  rebuked  a  doubter.  J.  J.  Olier  was 
a  pious  and  studious  boy,  who  loved  the  Virgin  Mary. 
There  was  never  a  conscious  moment  when  M.  M. 
Alacoque  was  not  pious.  Sin  early  horrified  her,  and 
she  vowed  herself  to  chastity  long  ere  she  knew  the 
meaning  of  the  word.  From  her  fourth  year,  she 
dwelt  in  a  constant  condition  of  religious  fervor  and 
excitement.  Antoinette  Bourignon,  at  four,  expressed 
a  wish  to  live  "where  all  were  good  Christians,"  and 
was  therefore  mocked  by  her  parents.  Marie  de  Tin- 
carnation  used  to  kiss  the  priest's  garments  as  he 
passed  along  the  street.  She  took  much  delight  in 
repeating  the  name  of  Jesus.  Othloh  prayed  to  the 
Lord  that  he  might  escape  the  rod  at  school.  Fanny 
Pittar  was  a  fervent  child;  while  Paul  Lowen- 
gard,  a  sensitive  and  religious  boy  in  a  materialist 
family,  suffered  tortures  of  misunderstanding.  Cath- 
erine of  Siena  we  know  to  have  been  a  little  saint  at 
six;  and  indeed,  in  the  Middle  Ages,  the  spontaneous 
bloom  of  piety  in  early  childhood  filled  many  a  convent 
and  determined  the  career  of  many  a  great  mystic. 
Sister  Therese,  Carmelite,  discussed  matters  of  faith 
at  three ;  her  games  were  all  taken  from  religion.  She 
suffered  intensely  from  scruples  at  thirteen,  was  a  nun 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  II  239 

at  eighteen,  and  lived  on  this  sinful  earth  but  a  few 
years  thereafter.  Mary  of  the  Angels  was  only  eight 
when  she  wept  because  she  might  not  take  the  Eucha- 
rist; and  she  became  a  Carmelite  at  fifteen.  Osanna 
Andreasi  avows  that  Jesus  appeared  to  her  when  she 
was  six,  in  the  guise  of  a  charming  playfellow.  A.  C. 
Emmerich  was  five  or  six  when  she  had  her  first  vision. 
Peter  Favre,  at  seven,  experienced  periods  of  devo- 
tion, and  at  ten,  longed  for  instruction.  Jonathan 
Edwards  writes:  "I  had  a  variety  of  concerns  and 
exercises  about  my  soul  from  my  childhood  .  .  .  with 
.  .  .  two  remarkable  seasons  of  awakening.  ...  I  used 
to  pray  five  times  a  day  in  secret  and  spend  much 
time  in  religious  talk  with  the  other  boys. ' '  He  adds : 
"I  seemed  in  my  element  when  engaged  in  religious 
duties." 

Fraulein  von  Meysenbug  was  a  devout  child.  The 
prophetess  Joanna  Southcott  early  grew  in  grace  and 
fear  of  the  Lord.  At  nine,  John  Trevor  was  very 
religious,  very  unsettled,  very  much  afraid.  The 
Moravians  mentioned  by  Wesley  were  all  in  early 
childhood  troubled  and  anxious  about  their  souls. 
Henry  Ward  Beecher,  though  a  good  boy,  fancied  him- 
self a  great  sinner ;  while  the  liquor  question  added  to 
the  religious  anxieties  of  Granville  Moody  until  he 
made  a  covenant  with  God.  Jacob  Knapp's  mind 
"was  early  impressed  with  divine  truth."  He  had 
seasons  of  prayer,  and  his  mother 's  death  when  he  was 
seventeen,  was  the  final  influence  toward  the  ministry. 
F.  Schleiermacher  was  very  young  when  he  worried 
about  his  soul,  which  gave  him  sleepless  nights.  This 
is  followed  at  fourteen  by  a  sceptical  reaction.  In  the 


240  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

case  of  William  Plumer,2  both  the  first  feeling  and 
the  reaction  therefrom  are  so  intense  as  to  cause  a 
loathing  of  the  subject  for  the  rest  of  life.  Gardiner 
Spring  writes  that  he  was  a  selfish  and  a  wilful  boy, 
yet  not  without  serious  impressions.  His  conscience 
was  tender  and  he  had  seasons  of  depression.  At  ten 
he  was  deeply  moved  by  a  sister's  death,  though  he  re- 
lapsed afterwards.  The  Mormon  Prophet  Joseph 
Smith  had  no  more  childish  piety  than  was  aroused  by 
an  intense  fear  of  the  Indians.  He  is  fourteen  when 
he  first  had  "serious  reflections "  during  a  time  of  re- 
ligious excitement ;  but  he  held  himself  aloof  from  all 
parties.  He  inherited  this  independence  of  thought  in 
regard  to  sect  from  his  father  and  grandfather. 

In  contrast  to  the  foregoing  choir  of  infant  angels, 
is  a  group  of  deeply  moved  persons  whose  sensitive- 
ness to  religion  was  but  tardily  awakened  or  not  felt  at 
all  until  the  actual  moment  of  conversion.  Some  of 
them  are  as  striking  as  Loyola,  whose  own  words  de- 
clare that  "until  his  twenty-sixth  year  he  was  given 
up  to  the  vanities  of  this  world ' ' ;  and  in  this  sentence 
he  dismisses  his  unconverted  youth.  We  know  that 
John  Wesley,  serious  and  scholarly  youth  though  he 
was,  gave  few  signs  of  religious  intensity  of  feeling 
before  manhood.  The  same  seems  to  have  been  the 
case  with  Swedenborg.  Thomas  Haliburton  goes  so 
far  as  to  observe  that  he  spent  his  first  ten  years  with- 
out one  rational  thought!  Bunyan  "had  few  equals 
for  cursing  and  lying. "  Though  often  terrified  by 
fear  of  hell,  yet  real  religious  sentiment  was  lacking 
to  his  childhood.  Whitefield's  self -denunciation  is 
even  more  violent :  "I  was  f reward  from  my  mother 's 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  II  241 

womb.  ...  If  I  trace  myself  from  my  cradle  to  my 
manhood  I  can  see  nothing  in  me  but  a  fitness  to  be 
damned."  At  the  same  time,  he  imitated  a  preacher 
so  well  that  at  ten  years  old  his  talent  for  the  pul- 
pit was  recognized.  John  Livingstone,  the  Scots 
preacher,  was  of  a  slow  development  in  regard  to  the 
religious  instinct,  which  lay  dormant  during  col- 
lege life,  but  gradually  came  to  supersede  his  other 
interests.  He  never  had  a  conversion,  and  was  al- 
ways an  unemotional  example.  John  Newton  is  so 
much  impressed  with  his  own  wickedness  that  we  are 
not  surprised  when  he  avows  no  serious  feelings  at 
all,  till  his  change  of  heart  as  a  young  man.  In  much 
the  same  key,  a  more  noteworthy  man,  Tolstoi,  dwells 
rather  on  his  youthful  scepticism,  and  on  the  awaken- 
ing of  the  sexual  instinct,  than  upon  any  childish 
religious  ideas.  His  disgust  with  himself  begins  very 
soon:  "Je  me  degoutai  des  hommes,  je  me  degoutai  de 
moi-meme";  and  his  piety  is  wholly  an  adult  growth, 
passing  through  many  crises  ere  he  discovers  that  "la 
foi,  c'est  la  force  de  la  vie."  Another  Scot,  James 
Fraser  of  Brae,  says  of  his  childhood:  "My  disposi- 
tion was  sullen  and  I  loved  not  to  be  dawted  .  .  .  nor 
had  I  any  wise  tales  like  other  children.  .  .  .  My 
temper  was  so  peevish  that  I  was  no  dawty,"  he  in- 
sists ;  '  *  only  at  school  I  learned  well. ' '  He  paints  his 
sins  in  dark  colors,  and  cannot  seem  to  recall  any 
childish  piety.  The  only  sentiment  that  Elizabeth 
Ashbridge  can  remember  was  "an  awful  regard  for 
religion  and  religious  people."  The  subject  did  not 
interest  her  for  a  long  time,  for  she  grew  up  "wild  and 
airy."  Count  Schouvaloff,  who  turned  Catholic, 


242  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

owns  that  he  was  sceptical  and  revolutionary  as  a  boy 
at  school. 

Although  so  many  of  our  Quaker  cases  have  been 
already  mentioned  upon  other  counts,  yet  there  are  a 
number  who  could  look  back  to  no  saintly  infancy. 
Such  was  Samuel  Bownas,  who  until  thirteen  ' '  had  no 
taste  of  religion."  Such  also  were  Daniel  Wheeler, 
Richard  Davies,  Richard  Jordan,  William  Lewis  (who 
was  frivolous  and  read  plays  and  novels),  and  William 
Evans,  who  as  a  child  was  "carnally  inclined"  and 
' 'found  the  society  of  religious  people  irksome." 
WTiitefield 's  preaching  roused  the  feelings  of  Joseph 
Oxley,  who  until  then  had  had  no  pious  inclinations 
whatever,  and  had  stolen  money  from  a  servant.  Very 
dreadful  was  the  childhood  of  Frederick  Smith,  who 
at  school  became  "a  little  monster  of  iniquity";  by 
nine  years  old  knew  every  childish  evil  and  never  had 
had  a  serious  impression.  Few  excelled  him  in  vicious 
conduct  from  his  fourteenth  year  till  his  conversion. 
Thomas  Shillitoe's  mind  was  unawakened  till  his  six- 
teenth year ;  and  till  the  same  age,  Jane  Hoskins  was  far 
too  cheerful  and  too  fond  of  music  and  dancing ;  while 
Alexander  Jaffray  thinks  he  spent  far  too  much  time 
"in  vanity  and  looseness."  Among  the  Baptists, 
George  Miiller,  Elias  Smith,  and  J.  H.  Linsley  can 
look  back  upon  no  serious  religious  inclinations  dur- 
ing their  childhood.  In  the  Methodist  group,  the 
number  who  knew  no  piety  until  their  conversion  is 
large.  It  includes  the  names  of  John  Prickard,  John 
Pawson,  Sampson  Staniforth  (who  "hated  religion" 
till  nearly  fourteen),  and  Thomas  Olivers,  who  ac- 
knowledges that  he  practised  when  a  boy  to  excel  in 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  II  243 

swearing,  and  was  scarcely  grown  when  he  had  a  se- 
duction on  his  conscience.  Him  also  the  thunders  of 
Whitefield  first  stirred  to  a  sense  of  guilt.  William 
Capers  was  first  moved  at  a  camp-meeting,  before 
which  time  he  had  no  religious  stirrings.  Daniel 
Young,  Duncan  Wright,  and  Thomas  Rankin,  were  in- 
different as  children.  John  Haime  was  a  vicious 
youth,  who  cursed  and  lied,  and  was  most  miserable; 
while  Thomas  Walsh  felt  a  marked  indifference  to  re- 
ligion, and,  at  eight,  preferred  his  play  and  silly  pleas- 
ures. Two  further  Methodist  cases  are  those  of  John 
Murlin  who,  before  the  age  of  twenty,  was  an  enemy 
to  God  and  his  soul ;  and  Richard  Williams,  a  surgeon, 
quite  indifferent  to  religious  matters  until  an  illness 
with  delirium  so  alarmed  him  as  to  precipitate  a 
conversion. 

Quaint  Oliver  Heywood  describes  how  as  a  child  he 
was  ' '  backward  to  good  exercises  and  forward  to  sinful 
practices. "  E.  N.  Kirk  is  insensible  to  pious  feelings 
all  through  childhood,  and  even  through  a  revival  at 
college  so  late  as  his  eighteenth  year.  His  was  an  un- 
emotional nature.  J.  A.  James  notes  "no  decided  re- 
ligious feelings ' '  either  during  boyhood  or  schooldays. 
Joseph  Thomas  felt  no  childish  piety ;  and  T.  R.  Gates, 
although  his  infant  conscience  remained  serene,  yet 
took  no  delight  in  prayer. 

It  is  interesting  to  find  that  what  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury looked  at  askance  as  the  domination  of  the  old 
Adam,  the  nineteenth  century  calls  "a  normal  childish 
indifference"  to  the  subject!  True  it  is  that  the  line 
of  the  norm  changes  visibly  from  decade  to  decade. 
Orville  Dewey  notes  this  indifference  until  his  college 


244  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

years ;  while  C.  S.  Spurgeon  thinks  that  a  similar  lack 
in  himself  is  due  to  a  wicked  neglect.  He  feels  much 
safer  when,  as  a  youth,  he  had  nothing  before  his 
eyes  but  his  own  guilt  and  came  even  to  blasphemy  and 
doubt.  Billy  Bray  and  Jerry  McAuley,  criminals 
and  drunkards,  can  recall  no  uplifted  feelings  during 
their  miserable  and  neglected  childhood.  Charles 
Simeon  laments  his  irreligious  boyhood.  Thomas  Scott 
took  no  interest  in  his  own  soul  till  sixteen,  and  then 
was  moved  chiefly  through  fear.  Carre  de  Montgeron 
was  a  boy  over-indulged  and  given  to  sensual  pleasures. 
It  took  a  carriage  accident  to  alarm  him  as  to  his 
course. 

The  difficulty  has  already  been  noted  of  obtaining 
data  from  any  medieval  cases,  on  such  a  point.  They 
are  apt  to  remain  silent  on  all  matters  which  appear 
trivial  to  them.  Gertrude  of  Eisleben  does  remark 
that  she  was  in  her  twenty-sixth  year  when  the  light 
came  to  her.  Placed  in  a  convent  at  five,  however,  she 
must  have  early  submitted  to  the  influence  of  her  sur- 
roundings. j  Certainly  Gertrude  More,  that  merry,  en- 
ergetic, high-spirited,  and  what  her  director  terms 
' '  extroverted, ' '  nature,  was  not  early  turned  to  spirit- 
ual matters,  and  found  her  convent  yoke  very  grievous 
and  intolerable.  Sir  Tobie  Matthew  was  twenty- 
seven  and  on  a  trip  to  Italy  when  his  interest  in 
religion  was  roused,  and  he  was  led  to  Catholi- 
cism. Rulman  Merswin,  one  of  the  Gottesfreunde,  was 
a  mature  banker,  whose  childlessness  caused  him  to 
turn  his  thoughts  toward  heaven.  Rolle  of  Hampole 
writes  that  his  youth  was  "fond  and  carnal — my 
young  age  unclean."  D.  Jarratt,  H.  Martyn,  and 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  II  245 

J.  Lathrop  awakened  late  to  any  marked  religious 
feelings. 

One  or  two  cases  remain  to  be  mentioned  of  a  type 
which,  strictly  speaking,  lies  outside  of  these  forego- 
ing examples.  Helen  Keller,  for  instance,  shows  that, 
with  her,  curiosity  preceded  the  awakening  of  any 
special  religious  instinct.  At  ten,  she  asks  who  made 
her,  where  she  came  from,  and  why.  Eeverence  is 
aroused  much  later.  It  is  unfortunate  that  we  have 
not  similar  cases  to  compare  with  this  one,  in  order 
that  we  might  see  whether  the  deprivation  of  certain 
senses  tends  to  deprive  one  also  of  those  supposedly 
innate  sentiments  of  reverence  and  love. 

The  philosopher  Nietzsche  should  not  be  omitted, 
since  he  notes  an  almost  unique  condition.  "Of  ac- 
tual religious  difficulties,"  he  asserts,  "I  have  no  ex- 
perience, I  have  never  known  what  it  was  to  feel  sin- 
ful." A  less  paradoxical  nature,  N.  S.  Shaler,  is 
equally  consistent,  in  that  as  a  child  he  was  never 
religious  and  after  twelve  he  turned  away  from  the 
whole  subject.  Hudson-Taylor  was  quite  indiffer- 
ent as  a  youth;  and  describes  his  sitting  to  read 
a  certain  tract  "in  an  utterly  unconcerned  state  of 
mind."  The  great  rarity  of  these  last  two  types  is 
our  excuse  for  mentioning  them. 

Long  ere  this,  the  student  will  have  been  satisfied 
that  the  characteristics  leading  toward  the  religious 
life  tend  to  show  themselves  in  the  subject  at  an  early 
age.  Whether  these  be  indicated  by  a  heightened  ca- 
pacity for  childish  fervor,  or  an  intensified  suscepti- 
bility to  childish  terrors,  they  denote  the  presence  in 


246  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

that  personality,  of  a  peculiar  sensitiveness.  A  few 
cases8  have  just  been  observed  of  a  total  aversion  to 
religion  in  persons  afterwards  deeply  religious,  but 
they  are  so  few  as  merely  to  accentuate  the  rule. 

A  sensitiveness  to,  and  interest  in,  religious  affairs, 
indicates  to  the  subject  himself  that  something  stirs 
within  his  heart  and  imagination  which  is  not  shared 
by  the  generality  of  his  companions.  Once  he  ob- 
serves this,  and  in  his  own  opinion  sets  himself  apart 
from  others,  he  places  himself  immediately  in  a  mental 
and  an  emotional  isolation  which  allows  a  free  play 
to  all  the  succeeding  phenomena.  Thus  freed  from 
counteractions  and  retarding  influences,  the  reli- 
gious process  develops  rapidly,  and  consistently  with 
those  elements  which  are  present  in  the  nature  of 
the  person  affected.  Taken  in  conjunction  with  the 
foregoing  data  of  health,  heredity,  and  education,  the 
persistency  and  the  significance  of  this  process  begin 
to  assume  a  definite  character  and  a  typical  evolution. 
Step  by  step,  the  reader  may  follow  this  evolution  by 
means  of  the  facts  and  experiences  furnished  by  the 
subjects  themselves.  He  has  already  seen  them  as  chil- 
dren, watched  the  shifts  and  turns  of  spiritual  growth, 
the  effect  of  education,  the  contagion  of  meetings  and 
revivals.  He  is  thus  prepared  to  approach  the  intri- 
cate subject  of  Conversion. 

The  psychologists,  who  have  recently  begun  to  deal 
with  the  phenomena  of  the  religious  life,  have  devoted 
much  space  to  that  crisis  known  as  conversion. 
They  tend,  not  unnaturally,  to  treat  it  as  an  isolated 
moment  in  the  history  of  the  person,  while  many  of 
them  give  but  little  space  to  the  conditions  preceding 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  II  247 

and  following  it.  The  result  is  to  force  a  wrong 
perspective  on  the  reader,  in  his  ideas  of  the  rise  and 
progress  of  this  emotional  crisis ;  which  error  has  been 
increased  by  the  use  chiefly  of  the  more  typical  and 
well-marked  cases,  many  of  whom — such  as  Paul,  Au- 
gustin,  or  Fox — were  distinguished  by  the  gift  of  lit- 
erary power. 

There  have  not  been  wanting  protests  against  this 
method.  Dr.  Watson  disagrees  with  Professor  James 
on  this  very  matter ;  *  since  the  author  of  the  ' '  Va- 
rieties of  Religious  Experience"  relies  wholly  on 
the  mystical  type  and  on  the  individual  expression. 
"We  cannot  get  any  fruitful  results/'  says  Dr. 
Watson,  "by  simply  describing  the  experience  of  this 
or  that  individual  in  its  isolation.  To  interpret  the 
experience  of  the  individual,  we  have  to  consider  the 
spiritual  medium  in  which  he  lives,  and  the  stage  in 
the  progress  as  a  whole,  which  he  represents.  For 
experience  is  essentially  a  process. ' ' 5 

Valuable  words  these,  which  this  study  must  neces- 
sarily confirm,  by  insisting  on  the  relation  of  the 
individual-experience  to  the  group-experience,  in  all 
matters  which  come  under  the  influence  of  the 
law  of  crowds.6  For  this  reason,  if  for  no  other,  so 
much  of  this  work  has  been  occupied  with  brief  ab- 
stracts of  the  cases  studied,  in  order  that  the  reader 
may  relate  the  conversion-phenomena  of  Fox  to  the 
Quaker  group  in  general;  that  he  may  examine  not 
Teresa  alone,  but  the  group  of  convent  mystics;  not 
Wesley  alone,  but  the  group  of  Methodists.  The  com- 
mon characteristics  of  these  groups  will  then  become 
plain,  together  with  the  "spiritual  medium"  of  each' 


248  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

case,  and  "the  stage  in  the  progress  as  a  whole  which 
he  represents." 

That  religious  experience  is  a  process,  must  be  stead- 
fastly borne  in  mind  in  our  contemplation  of  this 
body  of  facts.  For  how  is  it  possible  to  study  conver- 
sion, unless  one  has  immediately  before  him  all  the 
facts  concerning  the  converted ;  all  that  goes  to  make 
up  what  M.  Anatole  France  has  called  "la  verite  hu- 
maine ' '  ?  Our  purpose,  indeed,  lies  embedded  in  these 
data.  Not  in  theorizing  as  to  what  Teresa  thought, 
nor  what  Augustin  reasoned,  nor  what  Maria  d'Agreda 
imagined,  will  the  truth  be  found  to  lie,  but  in  trying 
to  collate  and  to  interpret  the  facts  they  tell  us. 

That  we  to-day  have  heightened  the  meaning  of  the 
term  "conversion"  and  have  attached  emotional  sig- 
nificance to  it,  no  reader  of  the  ancient  records  can 
doubt.  In  one  of  his  dialogues  Caesarius  of  Heister- 
bach7  (1225  A.D.)  discusses  the  causes  of  conversion 
or  leaving  the  world  for  the  cloister,  in  a  manner 
which  shows  that  it  held  for  him  but  the  physical  sense 
of  "a  turning-about."  One  was  turned  or  converted 
to  the  monastic  life,  for  all  sorts  of  reasons  wholly  un- 
connected with  religious  emotion.  To-day,  the  word 
seems  to  mean  more  nearly  what  the  Southern  negro 
calls  "getting  'ligion";  for,  beside  the  turning-away 
from  the  past,  the  soul  of  the  converted  person  is  sup- 
posed to  be  charged  with  a  fresh  and  ardent  energy 
for  the  future. 

The  common  identity  of  the  various  mystical  types 
has  been  sufficiently  insisted  upon  in  these  pages. 
Therefore  the  grouping  of  our  facts  is  not,  as  it  may 
casually  appear,  capricious  or  fortuitous.  It  has 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  II  249 

seemed  more  nearly  accurate  to  classify  them  according 
to  the  character  of  the  phenomena  displayed,  and  to 
ignore  for  the  moment  a  divergence  of  era  or  of  race. 
Dr.  Pratt8  uses  the  classification  "normal"  and  "ab- 
normal," meaning  by  the  first  term  that  spontaneous 
union  with  a  higher  life  which  is  gradually  achieved 
and  which  endures;  by  the  second,  that  sudden  and 
mystical  change  which  most  of  us  know  as  conver- 
sion. 

But,  as  has  already  been  indicated,  a  special  diffi- 
culty attaches  to  the  terms  "normal"  and  "abnormal" 
in  this  application.  They  are  too  shifting,  and  in  the 
light  of  the  facts  even  contradictory.  Those  religious 
experiences  which  are  normal  to  the  Guinea  negro, 
would  be  highly  abnormal  to  the  Englishman  of  to- 
day. The  standard,  in  fact,  fluctuates  even  from 
group  to  group.  For  instance,  if  out  of  ninety 
Quaker  cases  less  than  twenty  belong  to  Dr.  Pratt 's 
so-called  normal  or  unemotional  class,  we  are  driven  to 
the  inference  either  that  the  whole  Quaker  movement 
was  abnormal,  which  is  false,  or  that  the  normal  line 
has  in  this  particular  sect  shifted  to  the  mystical 
side.  In  truth,  the  idea  that  the  normal  is  the 
self-contained,  unemotional,  yet  serious,  elevated, 
and  ethical  type — an  idea  so  flattering  to  the 
Anglo-Saxon — will  not  stand  the  test  of  investi- 
gation. At  no  time  in  the  world's  history  has 
the  deep  and  quiet  nature,  coming  gradually  into 
union  with  the  divine  idea,  been  other  than  exceed- 
ingly rare.  For  such  a  condition  presupposes  a  har- 
mony between  a  man's  idea  and  his  convictions,  a 
balance  between  his  emotions  and  his  intellect,  which 


250  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

is  perforce  but  seldom  met  with  among  the  sons  of 
men.  Never  could  it  be  called  normal  save  perhaps  in 
the  sense  of  ideal.  Let  us  put  aside,  then,  any  classi- 
fication of  the  subject's  experience  as  normal  or  ab- 
normal, and  turn  our  attention  wholly  to  an  exami- 
nation of  the  facts  manifested  by  the  process. 

The  first  indication  of  approaching  change  is  mani- 
fested by  a  growing  dissatisfaction  with  self,  accom- 
panied by  depression  of  spirits  and  fear.  That  the 
subject  has  been  from  babyhood  strong  in  a  sense  of 
pious  reverence  and  the  love  of  serious  things,  does 
not  appear  to  mitigate  for  him  the  horrors  of  this  de- 
pression. His  melancholy  has  no  proportion  to  his 
conduct ;  it  is  equally  deep  if  he  be  sinless  as  Therese 
of  the  Holy  Child,  or  if  he  be  steeped  in  vice  like 
George  Miiller  or  Frederick  Smith.  This  is  among  the 
first  symptoms  of  the  dissociation  of  religious  stand- 
ards from  conduct,  which  is  so  marked  a  characteristic 
in  the  person  approaching  conversion,  and  which  indi- 
cates the  completely  emotional  nature  of  the  change. 
Under  this  strain  the  subject  will  excuse,  nay,  foster 
in  himself,  actions  and  attitudes  the  reverse  of  moral. 
He  will  banish  cheerfulness,  courage,  and  hope ;  he  will 
neglect  his  health,  his  person,  his  business,  and  his 
human  relations.  He  will  speak  of  his  brother  with 
reprobation,9  or  regard  a  mother's10  or  a  husband's 
death11  as  release  from  a  bond  or  "impediment." 
Not  only  is  he  overwhelmed  by  a  flood  of  selfish  fear ; 
but  he  is  apparently  deprived  of  any  stimulus  toward 
a  return  to  healthier  conditions. 

The  approach  of  this  depression  may  be  rapid  or 
slow ;  it  is  characterized  by  its  completeness  and  by  its 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  II  251 

intensity.  Never  can  we  forget  Bunyan's  terror  and 
distress,  wherein,  for  months,  "I  was  overcome  with 
despair  of  life."  With  Uriel  d'Acosta  it  endured  for 
several  years;  with  Henry  AUine,  four  years;  with 
Stephen  Crisp,  six  to  eight  years;  Augustin  and 
Woolman  suffered  a  long  time;  and  John  Crook 
for  five  years  was  so  troubled  in  mind  that  he  be- 
lieved he  was  possessed  by  the  Devil,  while  he  declares, 
"anguish  and  intolerable  tribulation  dwelt  in  my 
flesh. "  William  Edmundson  says  he  was  much  cast- 
down;  C.  G.  Finney  was  in  nervous  anguish  for 
months ;  and  George  Fox  dwelt  in  despair  and  in  soli- 
tude. With  Al-Ghazzali  this  melancholy  terminated 
in  a  nervous  prostration,  during  which  he  could 
neither  speak  nor  digest  his  food.  Cried  poor  Mar- 
tin Luther,  during  this  period :  ' '  I  have  often  need  in 
my  tribulations,  to  talk  even  with  a  child,  in  order 
to  expel  such  thoughts  as  the  Devil  possesses  me  with ! ' ' 
And,  while  tortured  by  doubts  on  his  entering  the 
cloister,  he  quieted  himself  by  reading  and  annotat- 
ing Augustin.  Joseph  Smith,  who  lived  in  what  he 
called  "the  burnt-over  district, "  so  ravaged  was  it 
by  religious  epidemic,  was  fourteen  when  he  became 
serious,  and  felt  great  uneasiness  of  mind.  He  grew 
troubled,  read  his  Bible,  was  deeply  moved  and  de- 
pressed, and  retired  to  the  woods  to  pray.  His 
wretchedness  lasted  for  more  than  a  year.  Lucy 
Smith,  his  mother,  had  an  attack  of  nervous  depres- 
sion preceding  a  vision;  her  father,  Solomon  Mack, 
had  been  filled  with  religious  gloom  for  years;  and 
was  seventy-six  before  he  was  really  eased  and  con- 
verted. Mme.  Guyon's  depression  had  at  least  the  one 


252  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

amelioration  that  she  did  not  at  any  time  doubt  her 
own  piety  or  worthiness,  and  looked  upon  the  feeling 
merely  as  a  chastening  from  on  high.  This  was  also 
true  in  the  case  of  A.  C.  Emmerich. 

Joseph  Hoag,  at  eighteen,  was  in  terrible  distress  for 
months,  which  terminated  in  an  acute  condition  of 
melancholy  lasting  fourteen  days;  F.  Howgill  fasted, 
prayed,  and  suffered  terribly -for  four  or  five  years, 
dissatisfied  with  all  forms  of  religious  doctrine.  The 
melancholy  conflicts  which  befell  the  saintly  Henry 
More  were  so  intense  that  they  caused  him  to  observe, 
"there  is  nothing  more  to  be  dreaded  for  a  man." 
Depression  followed  Patricius  for  weeks  while  he 
tended  cattle  in  the  fields ;  Job  Scott  underwent  alter- 
nate fits  of  gloom  and  dissipation,  from  puberty  until 
about  nineteen;  Suso  had  no  spiritual  combats  until 
after  conversion,  but  his  misery  lasted  with  increasing 
power  to  the  end,  namely,  thirty  years.  Teresa's 
period  of  depression  must  have  been  short.  When  she 
was  about  twenty  years  old,  she  speaks  of  the  "cruel 
ennui"  with  which  she  entered  the  convent  after  an 
unhappy  love-affair.  In  the  curious  and  typical  case 
of  Tolstoi',  the  despair  must  have  lasted  for  several 
years.  At  seventeen,  the  approach  of  conversion 
brought  to  Whitefield  its  load  of  fear  and  dread;  "an 
inward  darkness,"  he  says,  "overwhelmed  my  soul"; 
and  for  months  he  remained  much  terrified.  The 
acute  crisis  caused  an  illness  of  six  or  seven  weeks. 
During  college,  Thomas  Boston  had  a  "heavy  time" 
of  depression  and  nightmare,  which,  however,  was 
brief.  Gertrude  of  Eisleben  declares  that  the  trou- 
ble in  her  soul  lasted  for  more  than  a  month.  For 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  II  253 

nearly  a  year,  Thomas  Haliburton  was  grievously  tor- 
mented, feared  death,  could  not  sleep,  until  after  this 
time  the  agony  died  out.  It  is  characteristic  of  Loyola 
that  his  distress  did  not  begin  till  he  was  converted, 
and  that  it  endured  just  so  long  as  he  continued  his 
austerities  and  his  ascetic  life.  His  earlier  religious 
feelings  were  all  of  peace  and  joy. 

During  three  years,  Rulman  Merswin,  then  a  man  of 
forty-five,  underwent  "the  pains  of  hell,"  as  he  calls 
them;  including  violent  night-terrors  and  unspeak- 
able melancholy.  The  admirable  Richard  Baxter 
passed  through  many  a  conflict,  and  owned  to  having 
"difficulties  in  his  concernments"  about  many  doc- 
trines. Jeanne  de  St.  M.  Deleloe  was  so  much  cast 
down  by  her  feelings  of  guilt  and  misunderstanding 
of  spiritual  things,  that  it  took  her  a  year  to  recover. 
Neither  illness,  which  burnt  him  up  with  fever,  nor 
his  renunciation  of  the  life  of  the  intellect,  nor  his 
austerities  in  his  desert  hermitage,  could  quiet  Jer- 
ome's anguish  of  heart  for  a  long  time.  Pascal's 
conflict  of  soul  brought  on  a  dreadful  insomnia,  and 
aggravated  his  already  weakened  condition. 

The  curious  temperament  of  Cardinal  Newman  knew 
no  depression  which  is  personal ;  he  is  troubled  about 
the  dogmas  of  the  Church,  but  never  as  to  his  own 
destination.  Swedenborg  also  appears  to  have  had  no 
personal  depression  of  any  duration.  In  John  Wes- 
ley's nature,  the  energy  of  goodness  is  too  high  for 
depression  to  take  a  great  hold;  nevertheless  he  grew 
much  worried  as  to  his  state,  losing  his  tranquillity 
and  optimism  for  some  months.  Angelique  Arnauld,12 
abbess  of  Port-Royal,  is  one  of  those  Catholic  natures 


254  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

for  whom  naught  but  gloom  follows  their  first  recep- 
tion of  "La  Grace."  With  her  it  lasted  for  years. 
The  well-known  modern  conversion  of  Alphonse  de 
Ratisbonne  is  sudden,  and  absolutely  lacking  in  the 
usual  preceding  symptoms  of  melancholy.  In  this,  the 
reader  will  note  a  resemblance  to  the  famous  case 
of  Colonel  James  Gardiner — which,  however,  is  not 
strictly  autobiographical  material.  F.  M.  P.  Lieber- 
mann  notes  an  uneasiness  of  but  a  few  weeks. 
T.  W.  Allies,  like  Newman,  is  not  so  much  worried 
about  believing  in  God,  as  about  the  Real  Presence  and 
the  Monophysites,  yet  he  notes  a  frightful  depression, 
which  study  and  travel  for  months  fail  to  cure.  The 
anchoress  Juliana  of  Norwich  lived  at  too  early  a 
date  to  tell  us  much  about  herself,  but  with  what  a 
vividness  of  phrase  does  she  describe  that  "irkness  of 
myself  that  unneth  I  could  have  patience  to  live"! 
A.  F.  Ozanam  had  no  rest  by  day  or  night  for  weeks, 
from  "1'horreur  des  doutes  qui  ronge  le  coeur."  The 
blessed  Carlo  da  Sezze  noticed  in  himself  certain  bouts 
of  gloom  and  sorrow  lasting  at  different  periods  in  his 
life  for  several  months.  The  Ursuline  Marie  de  Tin- 
carnation  felt  the  melancholy  of  her  sinful  state,  but 
was  calmed  after  confession.  Baptiste  Varani  had  no 
remission  of  misery  upon  her  conversion ;  in  fact,  one 
black  period  lasted  as  long  as  two  years.  An  English- 
man, Charles  Simeon,  searched  out  his  iniquities,  re- 
maining worried  for  three  months.  Catherine 
Phillips,  a  young  Quaker,  was  so  much  affected  by  a 
sense  of  guilt  that  she  concluded  she  had  sinned 
against  the  Holy  Ghost.  "This,"  she  writes,  "af- 
fected my  tender  mind  with  sorrow  and  unutterable 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  II  255 

distress."  Her  pillow  was  often  watered  with  her 
tears;  and  she  remained  in  this  condition,  "deeply 
broken"  and  mournful,  for  a  space  of  eight  years,  or 
until  she  was  twenty-two  years  old. 

Among  the  foregoing  examples  have  been  cited  cer- 
tain of  the  more  vivid  and  important  members  of  the 
societies  of  Methodists  and  Friends.  The  following 
belong  rather  to  the  rank  and  file,  although  their  cases 
are  of  significant  interest. 

From  his  twelfth  to  his  eighteenth  year  the  Quaker 
John  Churchman  was  overcome  with  wretchedness  and 
fear.  "No  tongue  can  express  the  anguish  I  felt, 
afraid  to  lie  awake,  and  afraid  to  go  to  sleep."  John 
Griffith,  on  the  contrary,  was  not  alarmed  until  about 
nineteen  years  of  age,  and  passed  gradually  from  the 
darkness  to  light,  with  no  actual  moment  of  change 
noted.  "William  Savery  is  twenty-eight  when  he  be- 
gan to  be  troubled  in  mind.  One  evening  "sit- 
ting .  .  .  alone,  great  Horror  and  trouble  seized  me. 
I  wept  .  .  .  and  tasted  the  misery  of  fallen 
spirits  ...  a  clammy  sweat  covered  me,"  etc.  This 
agony  was  of  comparatively  short  duration.  The 
frightful  melancholy  and  distress  which  attacked 
Samuel  Neale,  at  seventeen,  caused  him  "to  be  as  one 
bereft  of  understanding,"  but  this  also  lasted  only  a 
short  time.  The  preaching  of  Whitefield  produced 
in  Joseph  Oxley,  hitherto  a  stranger  to  such  emotions, 
an  agony  so  terrible  that  he  "cried  and  shrieked 
aloud."  Conversion  in  this  case  followed  speedily. 
Six  years  of  solitary  weeping  and  mourning,  in  sore 
conflicts  of  the  spirit,  was  the  lot  of  John  Banks  be- 
fore he  became  "settled  in  the  power  of  the  Lord." 


256  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

Great  trouble  of  mind  visited  Christopher  Story  at 
eighteen,  until  his  marriage  brought  him  a  year  or  two 
later  under  the  influence  of  Friends.  In  the  cases  of 
P.  Livingstone,  M.  Dudley,  and  C.  Marshall,  there  is 
deep  suffering.  Thomas  Story 's  agony  preceding  con- 
version was  brief.  John  Gratton's  grief  caused  him, 
while  still  almost  a  child,  "to  cry  with  strong  cries 
unto  the  Lord/'  and  he  felt  sorrowful,  wept  and 
mourned  for  many  months.  In  the  intervals  he 
searched,  unsuccessfully,  for  the  truth.  From  sixteen 
to  nineteen,  Jane  Hoskins  was  under  a  concern  which 
caused  her  to  lose  much  sleep,  while  she  shed  many 
tears.  Myles  Halhead,  being  about  the  age  of  thirty- 
eight  years,  sorrowed  desperately  for  many  days,  took 
pleasure  in  nothing,  "and  in  the  Night-Season  I  could 
find  no  rest."  John  Pennyman  traces  the  causes  of 
his  gloom  to  the  execution  of  Charles  I.  God  com- 
forted him  after  about  two  years  of  depression.  The 
darkness  and  discouragement,  of  John  Fothergill,  lasted 
four  years  with  some  remissions ;  in  Richard  Jordan 's 
case  it  lasted  for  several  years.  For  experiences  of 
utter  agony  and  the  sufferings  of  despair,  the  Metho- 
dist records  give  the  most  vivid  accounts.  John  Nel- 
son, for  weeks,  felt  an  awful  dread;  was  hideously 
tormented  by  insomnia  and  the  fear  of  devils,  from 
which  he  would  awake  sweating  and  exhausted.  'John 
Haime  for  some  days  had  no  rest  day  or  night:  "I 
was  afraid  to  shut  my  eyes  lest  I  should  awake  in 
hell."  He  was  pursued  by  frightful  dreams,  one 
night  thought  that  the  Devil  was  in  his  room,  and 
"was  as  if  my  very  body  had  been  in  fire."  Mary 
Fletcher,  at  about  ten  years  old,  injures  her  health 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  II  257 

with  grieving.  From  seventeen  to  nineteen,  Thomas 
Walsh  grew  wild  and  desperate  from  a  sense  of  sin, 
often  struck  himself  against  the  ground,  tearing  the 
hair  from  his  head.  Freeborn  Garretson  underwent 
three  years  of  struggle  and  misery.  Peard  Dickinson 
at  fifteen  had  an  acute  attack  of  depression  and  re- 
morse, was  incessantly  pursued  by  guilty  and  horrible 
ideas,  could  not  study,  longed  to  die,  had  hideous 
dreams;  but  had  outgrown  the  worst  of  this  stage 
when  at  seventeen  he  fell  under  Wesley's  influence. 
William  Jackson  was  pierced  by  a  service  in  the  Meth- 
odist Chapel,  and  aroused  to  abandon  drink.  He 
wrestled,  cried,  groaned,  and  mourned  "for  a  space/' 
which  he  does  not  further  define.  Thomas  Lee  was 
despondent  for  nearly  a  year  in  unspeakable  anguish. 
Kichard  Eodda  spent  two  years  seeking  rest  for  his 
soul.  For  about  five  years,  off  and  on,  John  Pawson 
had  no  peace,  wept  and  cried  aloud.  William  Hunter 
lived  in  terrible  distress  for  many  months,  after  his 
conscience  had  been  "pierced  as  with  a  sword."  In 
the  cases  of  Thomas  Olivers  and  Thomas  Mitchell,  this 
wretchedness  lasted  for  six  months,  and  in  that  of 
Peter  Jaco  for  four  months.  'Jacob  Young  and  Joseph 
Travis,  both  American  Methodists,  were  cast  into  the 
depths  of  self-horror  for  a  briefer  time  and  from  at- 
tending revival  meetings.  The  former  was  terribly 
afraid  of  Indians.  B.  Hibbard,  a  boy  of  twelve,  began 
to  have  thoughts  of  hell  when  gazing  at  the  fire.  For 
three  years  thereafter  he  was  horribly  conscious  of  sin, 
and  in  great  torment  which  caused  insomnia.  Lo- 
renzo Dow  is  fourteen  when  in  his  despair  he  attempts 
suicide,  dreams  of  devils  and  hears  the  screeches  of  the 


258  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

damned ;  but  the  crisis  does  not  seem  to  have  been  pro- 
longed. On  the  other  hand,  we  find  William  Capers 
distressed  simply  because  he  is  not  depressed.  "I  was 
conscious  of  no  painful  conviction  of  sin — of  no  godly 
sorrow."  This  lasts  until  his  father,  wrestling  with 
his  spirit,  reduces  him  to  tears.  For  some  weeks,  at 
fifteen,  Daniel  Young  wept  in  solitude,  and  felt  that  he 
was  hanging  over  the  pit  of  hell.  "Darkness  and 
horror"  overwhelm  Benjamin  Rhodes  at  nineteen  and 
he  falls  into  a  horrible  fit  of  despair.  "At  last,"  he 
cries,  as  if  worn  out  with  it,  "the  Lord  heard."  The 
testimony  of  Robert  Wilkinson  contains  no  dates  nor 
note  of  time;  it  is  but  a  record  of  horror  and  dis- 
traction. Thomas  Ware's  spirits  were  so  low  "that 
I  was  little  better  than  a  maniac !"  A  Methodist  ser- 
mon struck  Richard  Whatcoat  with  a  terrible  fear  of 
death  and  judgment,  from  which  he  obtained  no  re- 
lief day  or  night.  This  appears,  from  the  cause  of  the 
narrative,  to  have  endured  for  some  weeks.  Duncan 
Wright  is  affected  by  a  fellow-soldier's  influence,  so 
that  he  was  for  a  time  utterly  miserable  and  lost  all 
taste  for  his  former  pleasures.  In  George  Shadf ord  's 
case,  the  misery  is  intermittent  and  much  increased  by 
a  fever  which  fell  on  him.  For  three  months,  George 
Story  felt  darkness  and  horror,  after  having  previously 
been  so  wretched  that  he  was  more  like  "an  enraged 
wild  beast  than  a  rational  creature."  Between  hear- 
ing two  sermons  of  Whitefield,  Thomas  Rankin  felt  an 
inexpressible  horror  of  mind.  The  friends  of  the 
young  John  Furz  assure  him  that  he  is  really  good, 
yet  for  about  two  years  he  is  in  utter  despair.  He 
slept  little  because  of  his  fear,  wasted  away,  lost 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  II  259 

appetite,  and  during  one  struggle  with  temptation  is 
stricken  senseless  for  hours.  Matthias  Joyce  was  on 
hell's  brink  for  two  years.  Haunted  day  and  night, 
his  flesh  would  creep,  and  he  very  nearly  went  insane 
from  fear  and  horror.  The  state  of  misery  which 
affected  John  de  la  Flechere  is  so  unbearable  that  he 
declared  he  would  rather  go  to  hell.  Peter  Jones,  an 
Indian  Methodist,  felt  that  his  wretchedness  was  un- 
becoming a  brave;  it  lasted  all  one  night  till  his  con- 
version at  a  dawn  revival-meeting.  For  three  weeks, 
Thomas  Hanson  was  troubled  with  horrid  suggestions, 
and  became  miserable  beyond  description.  William 
Black  seems  to  have  felt  "softening  frames,"  as  he 
puts  it,  during  all  his  youth  but  at  no  one  crisis.  Al- 
though he  spent  his  time  piously  from  eleven  to  six- 
teen, yet  William  Ashman  is  then  beset  by  gloom, 
which  lasts  for  four  years  more.  Neither  does  John 
Mason  obtain  a  lasting  peace  after  hearing  Whitefield 
preach,  until  five  years  later.  The  immediate  effect 
of  the  sermon  had  been  to  plunge  him  into  gloom  and 
to  deprive  him  of  appetite  and  sleep.  In  the  same 
way  Hanson's  preaching  upsets  William  Carvosso, 
causing  his  spirit  to  suffer  inward  struggles  for  many 
days.  A.  H.  Francke,  a  German,  was  ordained  a  min- 
ister at  the  time  he  realized  his  entire  unbelief.  With 
his  first  sermon,  the  distress  passed  and  he  obtained 
peace.  The  Evangelist  Gates  tells  of  deep  misery  dur- 
ing his  childhood  and  youth ;  its  chief  element  seemed 
to  be  a  fear  of  death,  which  induced  despair,  insomnia, 
horrid  dreams,  and  thoughts  of  suicide.  His  recovery 
of  tone  was  very  gradual.  Joseph  Thomas,  a  tuber- 
culous boy,  praying  alone  in  the  woods,  was  horribly 


260  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

afraid  of  the  Devil.  But  his  depression  lasted  only 
during  the  camp-meeting — forty-eight  hours  of  fasting 
and  excitement.  He  is  far  more  fortunate  than  most, 
since  he  is  settled  in  his  mind  at  sixteen.  John  Mur- 
ray, being  naturally  vivacious  and  cheerful,  considered 
himself  virtuous  only  when  thoroughly  depressed,  and 
these  depressions  are  but  brief.  For  some  weeks, 
Samuel  Hopkins  was  overwhelmed  with  doubt  and 
gloomy  thoughts ;  while  the  Eanter,  Joseph  Salmon,  de- 
clares that  he  was  "struck  dead  to  all  my  wonted  en- 
joyments." 

The  Presbyterian  records  of  soul-struggles  are  few. 
Among  others,  George  Brysson  thought  God  had 
loosed  Satan  to  assault  him,  "with  dreadful  tempta- 
tions and  blasphemous  suggestions,  whereby  I  was  al- 
most driven  to  despair."  For  some  years,  his  state 
was  lamentable.  Gardiner  Spring,  influenced  by  a 
general  revival  at  Yale,  shut  himself  up  (like  E.  N. 
Kirk)  to  wrestle  with  God;  and  was  greatly  troubled 
during  the  conflict  in  his  unsettled  soul.  Oliver  Hey- 
wood  says  that  he  was  "ready  to  roar  out  in  the  bitter- 
ness of  my  soul."  Alexander  Gordon  for  six  months 
felt  his  mind  in  horrible  darkness  and  was  thought  to 
be  going  mad.  David  Brainerd  underwent  the  mel- 
ancholy and  despair  suddenly,  and  it  lasted  for 
months.  William  Haslett  has  a  horrible  experience, 
but  does  not  note  its  length.  "It  was  eleven  years," 
says  William  Wilson,  after  he  "is  frightened  by  a 
vision  of  death  .  .  .  until  I  won  assurance  of 
faith  .  .  .  and  often  I  was  much  tossed  with  indwell- 
ing corruptions."  The  Baptist,  Andrew  Sherburne, 
compares  his  mind  during  two  years  or  more,  to  a 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  II  261 

troubled  sea.  L,  Kice  states  that  his  distress  of  mind 
caused  him  to  wake  in  extreme  agony,  and  that  he 
literally  wept  and  wailed.  Joanna  Turner,  from  four- 
teen to  seventeen,  thought  no  greater  sinner  existed 
than  herself.  The  statement  of  J.  H.  Linsley  de- 
scribes a  condition  of  incredible  anguish,  lasting  eleven 
months  and  bearing  signs  almost  of  mania.  Visions 
of  devils,  horrors,  cries  of  agony,  and  a  dreadful 
burning  of  the  soul,  unite  to  overwhelm  this  unfor- 
tunate; who,  if  he  but  chanced  to  sleep,  was  sure  to 
awaken,  screaming.  We  know  that  the  saintly  John 
Tauler's  depression  beset  him  for  over  two  years;  and 
that  John  Calvin  also  felt  this  cloud,  and  for  about 
the  same  period.  Charles  Bray  observes  that  the  time 
of  religious  unrest  was  "the  most  miserable  years  of 
my  life";  and  so  wretched  did  the  experience  make 
William  Plumer  that  he  thereafter  conceived  an  aver- 
sion, nay,  a  loathing,  for  religion.  Spurgeon,  the 
evangelist,  having  naught  before  his  eyes  but  his  own 
sins,  felt  horribly  evil  and  utterly  lost.  Jerry  Mc- 
Auley  and  Billy  Bray  had  probably  more  cause  to  be 
alarmed  about  their  state  than  many  others  we  have 
noted.  The  first  was  in  prison  when  he  underwent 
this  fierce  conflict;  the  last,  distressed  by  Bunyan's 
visions  of  heaven  and  hell,  believed  himself  tormented 
by  an  active  personal  devil,  so  that  he  cried  for  mercy 
all  night.  Thomas  Scott  found  Law's  "Serious  Call" 
"a  very  uncomfortable  book,"  and  was  affected  by 
dread  and  disquiet  for  many  years.  Henry  Ward 
Beecher  thought  of  God  as  a  sort  of  policeman  lying 
in  wait  for  him ;  he  was  very  miserable.  Hell  seemed 
to  yawn  for  Jacob  Knapp,  whose  mental  trouble  af- 


262  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

fected  his  health  and  generally  upset  him  between 
seventeen  and  nineteen.  A  little  black  fiend  squat- 
ting on  the  foot  of  Raoul  Glaber's  bed,  caused  that 
worldly-minded  monk  to  rush  into  the  chapel  chilled 
with  fear,  remembering  all  his  sins.  A  repetition  of 
such  a  visitation  led  to  his  full  conversion.  Gloom 
overwhelmed  the  gentle  sister  Therese  shortly  after 
taking  the  veil. 

Many  austerities  practised  at  the  age  of  sixteen, 
soon  brought  upon  Mary  of  the  Angels  melancholy, 
impure  thoughts,  and  the  assault  of  devils,  who  an- 
noyed her  by  their  cries  and  howls.  The  devils  fought 
pell-mell  around  the  poor  Mere  Jeanne  des  Anges,  till 
Christ  Himself  spoke  from  the  crucifix  to  save  her. 
Maria  d'Agreda  experienced  several  attacks  of  gloom, 
and  fell  into  deep  horror,  lasting  for  months  at  a 
time.  Peter  Favre  went  through  a  dreadful  space 
of  torment,  scruple,  and  temptation,  for  four  years  or 
more.  "Over  and  over  again,"  writes  John  Trevor, 
1  l  I  wished  I  had  never  been  born. ' '  David  Nitschman 
fell  into  a  dreadful  blackness  lasting  a  year ;  while  an- 
other Moravian,  Christian  David,  suffered  so  intensely 
that  for  a  while  he  "came  to  loathe  the  very  name  of 
Christ." 

The  deeply  religious  feeling  of  Amiel  could  not 
avoid  for  him  a  perpetual  discouragement  and  melan- 
choly, which  no  conversion  ever  came  to  change.  An- 
gela da  Foligno  went  through  every  typical  mediaeval 
torment.  To  the  mind  of  Jonathan  Edwards,  "it 
was  not  proper  to  express  that  concern  by  the  name 
of  terror";  yet  it  brought  him  a  great  misery.  Ger- 
trude More  felt  her  heart  become  "more  hard  to 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  II  263 

good  than  ever  was  a  stone";  while  it  took  his 
wife's  illness  and  death  to  shake  the  soul  of  Count 
Sehouvaloff.13 

Whatever  may  be  the  effect  of  this  accumulation  of 
data,  it  will  at  least  serve  to  accentuate  very  sharply 
that  dissociation  of  this  religious  process  from  usual 
standards  of  conduct,  to  which  reference  has  just  been 
made.  With  a  misery  so  poignant  and  an  absorption 
in  it  so  complete,  it  follows  that  these  cases  cease  to 
be  interested  in  anything  except  themselves.  In 
strongly  marked  attacks,  the  canons  of  ordinary  be- 
havior have  no  restraining  power;  while  the  disap- 
proval of  others  simply  adds  to  the  burden  and  in- 
tensifies the  egotism  by  the  idea  of  martyrdom.  M.  M. 
Alacoque  and  Mme.  Guyon  did  turn  the  other  cheek, 
but  they  did  it  with  an  alacrity  which  must  have  been 
in  itself  exasperating.  The  insensibility  to  ethical 
ideas  which  these  cases  display  has  already  been  noted, 
and  further  examples  are  easily  to  be  found.14  Sal- 
imbene's  abandonment  of  his  old  father,  Sainte-Chan- 
tal's  of  her  children,  are  instances  of  this  insensibility, 
which  will  extend,  at  moments,  to  physical  suffering 
of  one's  self  or  of  others.  The  obligation  to  one's  em- 
ployer is  felt  no  longer;  the  steadying  effect  of  work 
is  denied  to  the  sufferer.15  No  entreaties,  no  upbraid- 
ings  of  friends  or  relatives,  can  suffice  to  turn  him 
from  his  fixed  despair. 

Certain  among  the  cases  heighten  this  despair  and 
give  it  a  peculiarly  terrible  character  by  the  addition 
of  that  obscure  and  dreadful  idea  known  to  them  as 
the  unpardonable  sin.  The  list  of  unpardonable  sin- 


264  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

ners  is  not  large ;  its  conception  required  a  vividness  of 
imagination  which  is  fortunately  rare,  since  it  seems 
to  have  more  power  to  create  suffering  than  any  other 
similar  idea  in  the  world.  The  person  thus  torment- 
ing himself  often  appears  to  the  observer  to  have 
passed  the  boundaries  of  sanity,  or,  at  the  least,  to  have 
come  under  the  domination  of  an  idee  fixe. 

The  whole  conception  of  an  unpardonable  sin  dis- 
plays characteristics  which  have  an  especial  signifi- 
cance for  the  later  chapters  of  this  book.  The  first  is 
its  entire  lack  of  definiteness, — the  doubt  of  what  it  is 
in  the  mind  of  the  person  who  yet  is  quite  sure  that 
he  has  sinned  it.  Many  confessants  express  this 
doubt  in  so  many  words.  For  instance,  John  Bunyan 
writes:  "I  wished  to  sin  the  sin  against  the  Holy 
Ghost";  when  he  is  not  at  all  certain  how  this  is  to 
be  accomplished.  A  dreadful  feeling  of  guilt — and 
nothing  else — caused  Robert  Wilkinson  and  Catherine 
Phillips  to  be  sure  they  had  committed  this  particular 
sin.  J.  Travis  and  J.  Trevor  are  both  exceedingly 
worried  lest  they  should  have  sinned  it  unawares. 
Sampson  Staniforth  becomes  convinced  that  he  has 
done  so ;  whereas  Whitefield  is  horribly  afraid  of  being 
afraid  of  this  trespass.  His  undefined  terror  of  the 
mere  idea,  which  he  saw  as  a  sort  of  embodiment  of 
Satan,  whereat  " great  heavings  went  through  me,"  is 
an  accurate  exemplification  of  Maudsley's  general  de- 
scription: "The  very  mystery  of  that  one  stupen- 
dous sin,  its  vague  and  unknown  nature,  has  an  awful 
fascination  for  the  imagination,  which  is  held  by  it  in 
a  sort  of  cataleptic  trance." 16  And  trance,  in  truth, 
is  apt  to  be  the  culmination  of  the  attack. 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  II  265 

One  of  the  most  vivid  accounts  of  this  experience 
occurs  in  Borrow 's  novel,  * '  Lavengro. ' ' 1T  The  author 
puts  it  into  the  mouth  of  Peter  Williams,  the  farmer ; 
yet  no  one  who  reads  it  but  will  be  certain  it  is 
autobiographical,  that  the  experience  was  Sorrow's 
own.  Peter,  a  grown  man,  tells  how  at  seven  years 
old,  he  first  heard  there  was  such  a  sin.  Thereafter, 
"he  felt  a  strong  inclination  to  commit  it";  but 
terror  restrained  him.  The  impulse  is  described  as 
capricious  and  intermittent ;  for  weeks  together  it  died 
away  and  left  him  in  peace.  Finally,  out  of  childish 
bravado,  he  murmurs  horrible  words.  As  no  lightning 
strikes  him  after  the  act,  he  is,  if  anything,  relieved ; 
but  this  relief  is  followed  by  a  growing  and  creeping 
terror; — an  overwhelming  despair  in  the  conviction 
that  the  sin  is  committed  beyond  recall.  Years  after- 
wards, this  despair  is  still  feeding  upon  his  mind ;  and 
he  is  freed  from  it  only  when  his  wife,  with  tears, 
implores  him  to  believe  that  such  a  sin  was  impossible 
to  so  young  a  child. 

Peter,  of  course,  does  not  repeat  the  words  in  which 
he  thinks  the  sin  took  shape;  but  it  is  most  often  in 
some  form  of  a  curse  that  it  is  conceived  by  the  illiter- 
ate. Says  Margaret  Lucas,  a  Friend,  aged  nineteen: 
"One  night,  as  I  lay  in  bed,  on  a  sudden  a  voice  as 
I  thought  audible  and  like  my  own,  cursed  the  Lord 
and  defied  heaven,  saying,  'Now  am  I  damned,  for 
I  have  committed  the  unpardonable  sin/  I  fell, 
from  agony,  into  a  complete  perspiration,  and  the  bed 
shook  with  my  strong  trembling. "  In  the  same  way, 
Joseph  Hoag  was  frightfully  tempted,  "to  curse  Grod, 
father,  mother,  and  the  Bible' ';  while  to  resist  this 


266  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

temptation  nearly  drove  him  insane.  To  the  poor 
little  nun  Jeanne  de  St.  M.  Deleloe  came  "le  penser 
de  cracher  a  la  Sainte  Hostie";  which  thought,  to  a 
devout  Catholic,  would  be  almost  an  unpardonable 
sin  in  itself. 

Here  are  examples  sufficient  to  show  the  nature  of 
this  conception,  whose  very  existence  involves  contra- 
diction. It  appears  to  have  been  largely  a  Christian 
invention;  for  Hebrew  theology  does  not  admit  that 
any  sin  is  unpardonable.18  The  doubt  in  the  mind 
of  the  confessant  as  to  the  real  nature  of  his  tres- 
pass, seems  less  remarkable,  however,  when  one  notes 
how  early  such  uncertainty  existed;  for  the  Fathers 
themselves  are  by  no  means  unanimous  as  to  the  ex- 
act constitution  of  this  sin.  The  Church  defines  it 
as  "to  deny  from  pure  malice  the  Divine  character 
of  works  manifestly  Divine."19  Thomas  Aquinas 
held  it  to  consist  in  direct  insult  to  the  Holy  Ghost; 
while  Augustin  cannot  believe  it  to  be  aught  but 
final  impenitence.20  Since  the  doctrine  of  redemp- 
tion would  hardly  seem  to  admit  of  so  notable  an  ex- 
ception, it  follows  that  Augustin 's  is  practically  the 
only  explanation  of  this  curious  dogma  which  is  at 
all  logically  consistent.  Interesting  it  is,  therefore, 
to  find  that  not  this  explanation,  but  something 
much  more  unreasoning  and  primitive,  shows  in  the 
experiences  just  related.  The  confessants  are  all 
young — some  are  children — when  they  believe  this 
sin  to  have  been  committed,  moreover,  not  one  of 
them  is  finally  impenitent.  It  would  seem  as  if  such 
an  obsession  in  their  case  almost  denied  the  funda- 
mental doctrine  of  salvation; — nor  does  it  take  the 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  II  267 

brain  of  an  Augustin  to  see  that  serious  complications 
would  result  if  the  truth  of  such  an  idea  were  to  be 
admitted.  For  if  a  child  of  seven,  by  ignorantly  in- 
sulting the  Holy  Ghost,  were  to  live  his  life  in  peni- 
tent expiation, — only  to  be  damned  eternally, — where, 
then,  lay  the  value  of  the  Redemption,  or  the  glory  of 
the  Redeemer  ?  Even  the  mediaeval  mind  hesitated  to 
allow  doctrine  so  dangerous ;  particularly  when  it  can 
be  based  only  on  a  chance  word  of  that  Christ,  whose 
law  and  whose  promise  was  love.21  The  truth  is 
that  the  unpardonable  sin  is  not  wholly  a  mediaeval 
idea,  but  should  be  classed,  rather,  with  that  group 
of  concepts  which  had  lingered  over  from  the  past  in 
the  popular  mind,  to  be  developed  and  heightened  by 
the  mediaeval  imagination.  All  human  terrors  have, 
in  fact,  the  deepest  root  and  importance;  their  an- 
tiquity is  proclaimed  by  their  vague  and  unreasoning 
character ;  and  we  know  that  the  fear  of  men  belongs 
to  the  oldest  part  of  the  race.  The  confusion  existing 
in  the  minds  of  the  Fathers,  when  they  tried  to  cast 
this  particular  fear  into  a  dogma,  testifies  that  they 
felt  certain  misgivings  as  to  the  rigid  interpretation 
of  the  texts  on  which  they  based  it ;  at  the  same  time 
that  they  fully  recognized  the  presence  in  the  world 
of  such  an  emotion  and  such  a  conception. 

When  a  fact  in  human  nature  coexists  with  various 
and  opposing  explanations,  it  is  safe  to  infer  that  the 
fact  is  very  much  older  than  the  explanation.  Yet 
we  know  that  the  unpardonable  sin  is  not  to  be  looked 
for  among  the  Jewish  origins  of  Christianity.  More- 
over, it  is  certainly  striking  to  find  that  Dante's  In- 
ferno holds  no  circle  for  these  sinners;  that  to  the 


268  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

poet,  blasphemy  is  by  no  means  the  worst  of  offences 
nor  does  he  mete  out  to  it  so  heavy  a  punishment  as 
to  many  other  transgressions.  Dante  evidently  can- 
not conceive  of  any  sin,  nor  of  any  sinner,  wholly 
incapable  of  pardon — and  the  absence  of  this  sin  to  the 
scheme  of  the  "Divina  Commedia,"  is  surely  a  proof 
of  its  absence  to  the  whole  fourteenth-century  scheme 
of  human  error  and  penitence. 

Yet  the  very  visage,  as  it  were,  of  the  unpardonable 
sin,  its  bizarrerie,  namelessness,  and  vivid  qualities,  be- 
long to  a  savage  past.  What,  then,  may  be  our  infer- 
ence regarding  it?  Simply,  that  during  the  Middle 
Ages  it  had  not  yet  differentiated  itself  and  taken 
that  particular  and  individual  form  with  which  we 
are  later  accustomed  to  identify  it.  Then,  such  a  con- 
ception was  still  part  of  that  group  of  terrors  whose 
roots  we  now  know  to  strike  down  into  primitive  and 
brute  nature;  such  as  the  supernatural  in  all  its 
shapes,  diabolical  possession,  witchcraft,  evil  spells, 
and  so  forth.  Its  separation  from  and  evolution  out  of 
this  group,  its  development  into  a  purely  individual 
fear, — a  horror  personal  and  subjective, — is  a  proof 
of  its  relation  to  the  phenomena  of  religious  survival. 

The  place  to  discuss  this  phase  of  religious  experi- 
ence and  its  connection  with  the  subject  of  survival,  is 
one  belonging  properly  to  the  later  sections  of  this 
study;  nor  should  the  reader's  attention  be  longer 
diverted  from  the  main  body  of  facts  which  he  has 
just  reviewed,  and  of  which  the  unpardonable  sin 
data  form  but  part.  The  impression  made  by  these 
facts  as  a  whole,  will  be  found  to  have  been  chiefly  the 
result  of  their  uniformity,  their  peculiarity,  and  their 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  II  269 

intensity.  It  is  by  means  of  this  very  uniformity,  in- 
tensity, and  peculiarity,  that  these  examples  of  re- 
ligious depression  have  come  to  assume  a  significance 
which  will  eventually  lead  to  better  understanding  of 
their  origin. 


VII 

THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  III 


I.  Conversion 
II.  Conversion 

III.  Conversion 

IV.  Conversion 

V.  Conversion 

VI.  Reaction  and  relapse. 
VII.  "Covenanters  with  God." 
VIII.  Termination  of  the  process 


Theory, 
suggestion  in, 
the  data  of, 
note  on  Paul's, 
doubtful  examples. 


VII 

THE   DATA   ANALYZED:    III 

BEFORE  discussing  the  actual  moment  of  conversion 
and  its  attendant  phenomena,  it  may  be  well  briefly  to 
consider  some  of  the  more  prevalent  theories  which  at- 
tempt to  explain  these  phenomena.  The  change  which 
conversion  causes  in  the  individual  has  been  of  deep 
interest  to  psychologists  for  the  past  half-century, 
since  it  affords  them  certain  uniform  and  salient 
means  of  approaching  the  difficult  subject  of  person- 
ality. Conversion — be  it  religious  or  other — seems  a 
valid  instance  of  a  sudden,  violent  change  in  the 
personality  of  the  converted.  What  he  was  before  he 
appears  no  longer;  a  whole  new  set  of  energies,  of 
ideals,  wishes,  and  powers,  would  seem  to  have  sprung 
into  existence.  Hence  the  phrase  in  common  use  that 
he  is  a  "new  man."  But  this  "new  man"  cannot 
spring  out  of  nothing ;  he  must  have  had  some  connec- 
tion with  that  "old  man"  which,  by  the  conversion,  is 
cast  aside.  What,  then,  has  actually  taken  place  ? 

As  is  usual  in  all  subjects  where  students  have  spent 
their  energies  in  drawing  conclusions  without  per- 
sonally collecting  data,  what  takes  place  has  been 
ingeniously  misconstrued.  Various  hypotheses  have 
been  formulated,  much  less  according  to  the  facts  of 
the  case  than  according  to  the  preconceived  belief  of 

273 


274  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

the  theorists.  Typical  among  them  is  that  interpreta- 
tion well  expressed  by  Harold  Begbie  in  his  vivid 
little  books,  " Souls  in  Action*'  and  "Twiceborn  Men." 
The  author  recites  a  number  of  conversions  operated 
through  the  work  of  the  London  Mission;  and  from 
them  draws  the  inference  that  "Christianity"  is  "the 
only  force  which  can  change  a  radically  bad  man  into 
a  radically  good  one."  Not  at  all  worried  by  such  a 
contradiction  in  terms,  this  writer  frankly  looks  to- 
ward Christianity  to  furnish  an  explanation  of  the 
phenomena  it  appears  to  cause. 

When  we  turn  elsewhere,  however,  we  may  find 
conversion  somewhat  metaphysically  defined  as  "a 
disturbance  of  the  equilibrium  of  the  self,  which  re- 
sults in  the  shifting  of  the  field  of  consciousness  from 
lower  to  higher  levels  .  .  .  and  the  beginning  of  trans- 
cendence. ' ' *  Here  is  one  of  those  calmly  a  priori  defi- 
nitions which  are  at  once  the  despair  and  the  oppor- 
tunity of  the  simple  seeker  for  the  truth.  If  the  levels 
to  which  the  field  of  consciousness  shifted,  during  and 
after  conversion,  were  higher  levels,  then  this  state- 
ment would  have  more  validity;  but  unfortunately, 
except  in  rare  instances,  they  are  not.  Such  defini- 
tions arise  naturally  from  the  consideration  of  cer- 
tain very  special  cases,  and  they  are  totally  destroyed 
by  any  fair  examination  of  all  the  facts. 

A  writer,2  analyzing  the  case  of  Pascal,  terms  con- 
version "the  restoration  of  equilibrium  to  a  mind 
hitherto  unbalanced";  which  definition,  if  one  inserts 
the  word  "temporary"  before  "restoration,"  might 
perhaps  stand.  It  is  not  clarified  further  by  this 
writer's  comparison  of  the  process  to  that  of  a  snake 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  III  275 

casting  its  skin; 3  or  his  talk  about  the  " sudden  emer- 
gence into  consciousness  of  the  subliminal  or  second- 
ary self. ' '  Professor  James  *  avoids  definitions ;  dis- 
cussing the  whole  subject  in  his  especially  felicitous 
manner  combining  good  literature  and  sound  psychol- 
ogy. Yet  he  also  tends  to  regard  as  final',  results  given 
by  a  few  selected  cases  and  supported  by  the  funda- 
mentally unsound  method  of  the  "questionnaire." 
Still  another  writer  suggests  that  the  main  factor  in 
conversion  is  the  religious  emotion  superseding  and 
supplanting  all  emotion  before  given  by  sin  or  pleas- 
ure.5 Thus  the  convert's  energies  find  a  new  out- 
let, while  his  worldly  interest  and  his  appetite  for  sin 
are  lessened.  By  tracing  the  whole  process  to  an  emo- 
tional source,  and  by  showing  that  it  is  based  on  an 
integral  emotional  necessity,  Dr.  Cutten  has  furnished 
a  valuable  starting-point,  and  one  which  becomes  more 
significant  the  deeper  goes  our  investigation.  The 
limits,  however,  of  such  an  investigation  do  not  stop 
at  Christianity,  as  this  writer  would  seem  to  think, 
if  any  vital  results  are  to  be  achieved  therein. 

The  above  citations  are  sufficient  to  indicate  the 
trend  of  modern  theory.  Such  psychological  doctrine 
as  they  rely  upon  for  support  has  been  already 
glanced  at  in  an  earlier  section,  but  it  is  necessary  to 
make  some  further  enquiry  here,  if  that  question  is 
to  be  answered  as  to  what  actually  takes  place  dur- 
ing conversion.6  Hoffding  defines  psychology  as  a 
' '  Science  of  the  Soul, ' '  and  this  definition,  which  later 
workers  regard  both  as  provisional  and  inadequate, 
serves  to  show  what  was  the  starting-point  of  the 
earlier  investigator. 


276  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

No  doubt  the  reason  why  the  subject  failed  to  come 
under  the  general  methods  of  science  for  so  long  a 
time,  lay  in  the  difficulty  of  making  any  progress 
through  the  usual  means;  namely,  by  any  investiga- 
tion into  the  brain  and  its  functions  during  their 
normal  activity.  A  physician  tells  us  that  "nothing 
is  more  undemonstrative  to  mere  inspection  than 
healthy  brain-matter, ' ' 7  and  by  study  of  the  diseased 
brain  alone  was  any  progress  made  possible.  But  so 
soon  as  investigation  into  the  normal  brain  processes 
had  established  the  great  truth  that  the  brain  was  not 
an  unit,  then  immediately  a  fresh  set  of  difficulties 
presented  themselves  to  the  psychological  investigator. 
He  was  brought  face  to  face  with  the  complex  and  be- 
wildering problem  of  Personality,  and  the  deeper  he 
delved  into  this  question,  the  more  he  attempted  to 
solve  it  by  the  weapons  of  his  logic  and  his  imagina- 
tion, the  more  quickly  he  appeared  to  arrive  at  what 
Sir  "William  Hamilton  terms  "the  inexplicability  of 
ultimate  facts."  If  the  brain  is  not  "a  single  organ 
working  as  an  unit,"  then  in  what  portion  of  it  do 
those  elements  reside  which  make  up  our  personality ; 
what  is  this  personality,  and  how  does  it  account  for 
the  facts?  When  Mill  said  that  "the  phenomena  of 
self  and  of  memory  are  merely  two  sides  of  the  same 
fact,"  he  did  not  add  that,  whereas  the  brutes  have 
memory,  they  appear  to  have  but  the  faintest  adum- 
bration of  what  we  call  personality.  The  "wave- 
theory"  of  Professor  James,  which  considers  that  each 
passing  wave  of  consciousness  is  a  part  of  that  wave 
which  preceded  it,  is  open  to  other  vital  objections.8 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  III  277 

From  this  chaotic  borderland  of  theory  one  obtains 
finally  two  salient  ideas: 

That  the  central  point  of  personality  is  self-con- 
sciousness, would  seem  to  be  no  longer  a  matter  of 
doubt;  and  that  this  personality,  this  Ego,  whatever 
it  be,  is  not  an  unit,  not  homogeneous,  and  not  static, 
would  seem  to  be  equally  matter  of  proof.  Whether 
the  elements  which  combined  to  produce  it  exist  in  a 
state  of  flux,9  or  whether,  according  to  another  theory, 
they  are  incessantly  being  dispersed  and  reassembled, 
as  in  sleep  and  waking,  is  of  lesser  importance,  once 
the  fact  of  the  fundamental  instability  of  their  com- 
bination has  been  grasped.  The  laboratory  experi- 
ment, the  use  of  hypnosis,  have  provided  many  pre- 
cise means  of  determining  this  instability,  its  degree 
and  its  limitations,  other  than  could  possibly  be  men- 
tioned in  this  study ;  the  main  fact  remains  that  it  is 
so  to  be  determined.  And  once  this  idea  is  formu- 
lated by  the  mind,  it  has  advanced  several  paces 
nearer  the  answer  to  that  question  of  what  actually 
takes  place. 

If  by  an  analogy  taken  from  astronomy  it  could  be 
brought  closer  to  the  imagination,  Personality  might 
be  depicted  as  a  nebula;  of  which  the  nuclear  cen- 
tre is  Consciousness,  while  the  power  holding  the 
atoms  together,  is  Will.  By  such  analogy  it  will 
readily  be  understood  that  should  anything  occur  to 
loosen  the  grip  of  will,  the  atoms  composing  this  un- 
stable combination  will  no  longer  remain  unified. 
Now,  the  various  elements  thus  normally  under  con- 
trol, the  emotions,  the  imagination,  the  reason,  and 


278  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

so  on,  are  present  in  different  proportions  in  each  in- 
dividual. These  proportions  are  the  result  of  many 
influences,  of  which  race,  evolution,  heredity,  nutri- 
tion, social  conditions,  are  probably  the  most  signifi- 
cant ;  and  the  ratio  of  each  to  each  other  varies  widely 
and  is  of  the  utmost  importance.  Any  shifting  of  pro- 
portions must  cause  a  tendency  to  readjustment  in  the 
entire  mass. 

This  analogy  is  hardly  complete,  yet  it  will  serve 
by  permitting  us  to  visualize  what  follows.  In  a  full, 
normal,  healthy  personality,  these  elements  are  in- 
terfused so  that  they  act  as  an  unit  upon  surrounding 
circumstances.  Anything  which  happens  to  alter  the 
proportion  of  these  elements,  tends  to  diffuse  the 
mass,  and  temporarily  to  disunite  the  combination 
forming  the  personality.  When,  so  diffused,  the  neb- 
ula no  longer  whirls  evenly,  then  the  personality  is 
said  to  be  unbalanced ;  and  when,  through  some  other 
force,  this  diffused  mass  is  again  freshly  charged  by  a 
current  of  will,  it  coalesces,  it  integrates,  it  moves 
evenly  once  more. 

This  metaphor  is  not  so  fantastic  as  it  appears; 
for  the  sober  treatises  of  science  make  a  constant  use 
of  words  and  phrases  based  on  similar  conceptions. 
The  terms  commonly  dealing  with  that  portion  of  the 
consciousness  which  lies  outside  of  the  nucleus,  show 
this.  Dr.  Pratt,  for  instance,  names  it  the  "feeling 
mass"  or  "the  fringe  of  consciousness."10  It  is 
called  by  others  the  subconscious  or  extra-marginal 
self.11  The  incoherent  character  of  this  primal  con- 
sciousness, even  before  it  arrived  at  a  stage  of  de- 
velopment whence  it  was  enabled  to  produce  ideas,  is 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  III  279 

spoken  of  as  the  result  of  evolution;  and  is  seen  at 
work  in  the  embryo,  the  infant.  As  it  draws  together, 
as  it  becomes  nucleated,  definite,  and  effective,  per- 
sonality results. 

But  the  primordial  stuff  of  consciousness  is  not  all 
used  in  the  formation  of  this  active  nucleus.  There 
is  a  residuum  which  lies  outside,  a  loose,  diffused 
"feeling  mass"  which  serves  to  envelope,  like  some 
tenuous  gas,  the  periphery  of  the  nebula.  Such  mat- 
ter will  remain  in  this  extra-marginal  territory,  un- 
less some  influence,  acting  to  widen  and  agitate  the 
whirl,  will,  for  the  time  being,  force  the  fringe  with- 
in the  range  of  the  active  nucleated  centre  of  con- 
sciousness. Through  the  medium  provided  by  re- 
ligious confessions,  the  psychological  process  involved 
in  such  experiences  is  laid  bare  to  us,  so  that  we  may 
visualize  and  understand  the  actual  occurrence. 

Personality,  then,  pictured  as  a  nebula,  with  all  its 
elements  under  the  control  of  will,  is  thus  seen  mov- 
ing through  life,  as  we  express  it,  "well-balanced" 
on  its  axis.  A  close  study  of  its  constitution  would 
doubtless  reveal  (in  those  cases  which  come  under  our 
particular  observation)  that  emotions  preponderate 
in  the  mass;  while  its  unity  is  delicately  maintained, 
and  under  a  certain  amount  of  strain.  At  a  given 
stage  we  mark  the  entrance  of  the  destructive  forces, 
placing  the  entire  personality  on  the  rack  of  intensity, 
fear,  or  doubt.  Health  is  invariably  injured,  enor- 
mously affecting  the  balance,  by  causing  the  instabil- 
ity to  become  greater  at  one  and  the  same  moment 
that  physical  weakness  loosens  the  centripetal  force 
of  the  will.  Immediately,  the  nebula  is  disunited 


280  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

and  diffused.  The  various  elements  are  dispersed, 
naught  moves  harmoniously,  a  man  is  said  to  be  at 
war  with  himself,  and  so  in  truth  he  is. 

This  stage  has  been  concretely  developed  for  the 
reader  in  the  group  of  examples  just  reviewed  under 
the  heading  " Depression."  There  are  cases,  of 
course,  in  which  the  dissociation  becomes  so  complete 
that  insanity  or  death  is  its  only  outcome.  But  in  the 
vast  majority  of  persons  the  condition  is  but  tem- 
porary, following  the  indicated  crises,  and  resulting 
from  indicated  conditions.  It  is  apt  to  occur  during 
puberty;  for,  although,  from  the  ideal  standpoint, 
youth  should  unfold  symmetrically,  harmoniously,  and 
without  crises,  yet  in  actual  life  the  very  reverse 
is  usually  the  case.  After  a  lapse  of  time,  varying 
widely  in  different  instances,  the  disturbed  elements 
of  personality  tend  to  seek  readjustment  to  meet  these 
new  conditions.  The  fluctuations  involved  in  this 
change,  cause  a  tension  exceedingly  nervous  and  pain- 
ful to  the  subject,  already  clouded  by  darkness  and 
despair,  and  this  tension  is  often  depicted  as  a 
struggle,  a  conflict  in  which  the  different  forces  of 
personality  are  arrayed  the  one  against  the  other. 

It  is  customary  to  describe  the  termination  of  this 
conflict  as  a  yielding-up  of  the  will,  but  on  examina- 
tion the  expression  is  found  to  be  far  from  accurate. 
It  is  not  the  will  which  is  yielded,  but  rather  the 
various  morbid  obstructions  to  its  harmonious  action, 
which  are  overcome  by  a  revival  of  that  central  force, 
heretofore  weakened  and  ineffectual.  It  is  the  will's 
fresh  assertion;  its  fresh  energy  to  say,  "I  come, 
Lord!"  or  "Do  as  thou  wilt";  which  brings  at  length 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  III  281 

peace  to  the  sufferer.  At  once  the  jarring  mass  is 
integrated,  the  elements  healthily  coalesce;  the  sub- 
ject would  tell  you  he  had  " found  peace";  that  he 
was  a  new  man?  strengthened  for  a  new  life.  By  this, 
he  really  means  that  he  is  at  last  freed  from  all  sensa- 
tions save  natural  ones ;  that  he  is  now  no  more  con- 
scious of  the  processes  of  his  soul  than  he  should 
be  aware  of  the  processes  of  his  digestion;  for,  with 
the  spiritual  as  with  the  physical  nature,  any  con- 
sciousness of  the  machinery  means  that  it  is  not  run- 
ning as  it  ought.  The  man  is  then  "converted";  his 
wheel  turns  a  new  round.  Reconstruction  begins, 
and,  weary  of  the  tension  of  doubt,  he  readily  sub- 
mits to  further  peace-making  influences. 

The  immediate  cause  of  this  healing  and  benefi- 
cent change  has  been  defined  by  psychologists  as  a 
"yielding  to  suggestion,"  and  in  this  phrase  lies  the 
crux  of  the  whole  matter.  Granting  that  there  is  no 
objection  to  the  image  of  personality  as  a  nebula;  or 
that  the  reader  through  this  means  has  better  visual- 
ized these  obscure  occurrences,  long  ere  this  he  has 
realized  that  such  an  image  offers  no  explanation 
of  their  cause.  Informed  that  the  reconstruction  of 
this  disunited  mass  of  elements  has  been  the  work  of 
an  outside  influence  named  "suggestion,"  his  next 
question  will  naturally  be  to  enquire  what,  in  a  psy- 
chological sense,  is  known  about  this  suggestion? 

"By  suggestion,"  he  is  answered  in  the  words  of  a 
modern  investigator,12  "is  meant  the  intrusion  into 
the  mind  of  an  idea,  met  with  more  or  less  opposition 
by  the  person,  accepted  uncritically  at  last;  and  rea- 
lized unreflectively,  almost  automatically.  By  sug- 


282  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

gestibility  is  meant  that  peculiar  state  of  mind  which 
is  favorable  to  suggestion. ' ' 

It  is  unnecessary  for  the  purposes  of  this  volume  to 
enter  deeply  into  the  technique  of  suggestion,  or  to 
explain  the  experiments  by  which  the  facts  have  been 
attained.  As  regards  the  religious  experience,  the 
suggestion-theory  has  been  advanced  rather  tenta- 
tively ;  due  no  doubt  to  the  insufficiency  of  valid  data, 
for  which  the  questionnaire  method  is  partially, 
at  least,  responsible.  But  the  reader  will  have  little 
difficulty  in  applying  the  generalizations  just  cited  to 
the  data  in  these  pages,  if  he  also  bear  in  mind  that 
"the  first  and  general  condition  of  normal  suggesti- 
bility is  fixation  of  the  attention"; 13  and  that  "indi- 
rect suggestion  is  often  more  effective  than  direct 
suggestion. ' ' 14 

Francis  Galton,15  trying  some  "  experiments  in  the 
Human  Faculty, "  proved  the  extreme  susceptibility  of 
our  mental  and  nervous  centres  to  suggestion.  Among 
other  experiments  he  sought  "to  evoke  the  commoner 
feelings  of  Insanity  by  investing  everything  I  met  with 
the  attributes  of  a  spy !  It  was  long, ' '  he  adds,  ' '  be- 
fore the  uncanny  feeling  thus  aroused  wore  away." 
Almost  every  one  of  us  has  in  his  proper  person 
undergone  some  such  experience,  and  has  realized  the 
force  on  himself  of  a  repeated  idea.  Books,  plays, 
newspapers,  all  the  influences  of  the  world  at  large, 
will  serve  to  bring  it  home  to  him,  and  to  his  daily 
life.  Every  parent  makes  conscious  or  unconscious 
use  of  suggestion  in  training  children,  in  whom  psy- 
chologists agree  to  find  a  degree  of  suggestibility  al- 
most equal  to  that  which  exists  in  hypnosis ; 16  and  over 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  III  283 

whom  the  simplest  idea  may  thus  have  an  uncanny 
power. 

The  study  of  suggestion  has  been  undertaken  very 
largely  through  the  examination  of  diseased  nervous 
functions ;  and  the  French  neurologists  Charcot,  Janet, 
and  others,  have  done  pioneer  work  along  these  lines. 
From  their  writings  one  may  obtain  some  significant 
factSj  highly  illuminative  of  the  confessant's  state  of 
mind  during  the  conversion-crisis.  M.  Janet 17  it 
should  be  noted  at  the  outset,  has  the  medical-material- 
ist view,  which  places  all  religious  emotionalism 
definitely  and  finally  in  the  realm  of  pathology. 
He  observes  the  susceptibility  of  these  cases  to  sug- 
gestion, also  remarking  that  incipient  hystericals 
1 '  come  out  of  the  confessional  calmed  and  cheered. ' ' 18 
The  further  parallel  between  the  states  of  mind  in 
the  subjects  of  M.  Janet 's  study  and  our  confessants 
of  emotional  religious  experience,  is  very  striking,  and 
must  not  be  overlooked,  even  if  one  does  not  wish  to 
follow  this  medical-materialist  reasoning  all  the  way. 
For  instance,  M.  Janet's  cases  also  desire  to  place 
themselves  under  authority,  and  to  have  the  simplest 
matters  decided  for  them.  There  is  complete  apathy ; 
often  combined  with  that  form  of  insensibility  to  emo- 
tions and  to  family  ties,  which  is  characteristic  of  cer- 
tain confessants,  to  whom  nothing  counts  beside  the 
idee  fixe.19  M.  Janet  also  points  out  that  "a  tendency 
to  suggestion  and  to  subconscious  acts  is  the  sign  .  .  . 
of  hysteria;  and  that  the  constitutional  doubter  is 
predisposed  in  this  direction. ' ' 20  Such  is  the  person 
who  is  incapable  of  even  small  decisions  and  whose 
whole  life  is  rendered  useless  from  his  wavering.  Com- 


284  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

meriting  on  the  various  ''provocative  agents"  in  these 
cases,  among  which  he  classes  the  period  of  puberty, 
improper  nutrition  depressing  the  nervous  system, 
overwork,  anxiety,  or  emotion,  M.  Janet 21  lays  much 
emphasis  on  hereditary  influences  which  dispose  the 
mind  to  such  tendencies;  and  which  are  frequently 
indicated  in  the  records  just  reviewed. 

Such  work  as  this  naturally  tends  to  class  mysticism 
with  hysteria ;  and  not  the  least  of  M.  Janet 's  examples 
is  Teresa,22  whose  "Autobiography"  he  regards  much 
as  Charcot  that  of  the  Mere  Jeanne  des  Anges.  A 
recent  study  of  mysticism  vigorously  combats  this  at- 
titude toward  the  great  contemplatives ;  and  in  truth 
it  is  one  which  will  find  many  antagonists.23  The 
citations  just  made  are  not  for  the  purpose  of  agree- 
ment, but  rather  to  aid  the  reader  in  comprehending 
that  power  of  suggestion  which  plays  so  vital  a  part 
in  the  drama  of  religious  change. 

Bearing  these  facts  in  mind,  let  us  for  an  instant 
return  to  that  image  of  personality,  whirling  its 
incoherent  nebula  of  sensations  and  ideas  through 
the  universe,  and  readily  susceptible  to  direct  and 
indirect  suggestions.  Somewhat  slowly  at  first,  then 
more  rapidly,  the  forces  already  analyzed  tend  to  set 
up  a  disturbance  and  finally  to  produce  disunion. 
The  suggestion,  which  at  a  crisis  serves  to  reanimate 
the  weakened  will  and  to  reassemble  the  dispersed  ele- 
ments, is  inevitably  swift,  sudden,  and  definite.  In 
the  sincere  and  full  record,  it  is  almost  always  trace- 
able, so  that  one  may  put  his  finger  upon  it  exactly,  if 
one  will.  It  charges  into  the  melee,  as  it  were,  pre- 
cisely at  that  moment 'when  high  nervous  tension  has 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  III  285 

predisposed  the  imagination  to  abnormal  sensitive- 
ness and  activity,  and  thus  turns  the  fortunes  of  the 
day. 

"  Intensity  of  thought  operating  on  intensity  of 
feeling  may  elicit  surprising  illumination,"  is  the 
penetrating  remark  of  Sir  Egerton  Brydges ; 24  and 
one  cannot  therefore  be  surprised  at  the  effect  which 
a  powerful  suggestion  may  have  upon  the  mind.  Nec- 
essarily is  the  field  of  consciousness  during  this  period 
of  tension  occupied  by  the  most  fantastic  and  over- 
charged ideas.  Excitability  of  the  nerve-centres  re- 
sulting, there  may  suddenly  appear  visual  and  audi- 
tory hallucinations  of  extraordinary  vividness.  Such 
phenomena  will  be  found  to  bear  a  marked  family  like- 
ness ;  and  in  most  cases  they  are  the  media  of  the  sug- 
gestion itself. 

This  is  often  conveyed  to  the  sufferer  by  what  seems 
to  him  a  voice,  sometimes  issuing  a  command,  such 
as  "Tolle,  lege!"25  or,  "Surrender,  or  thou  shalt 
die!'726  or,  "Awake,  sinner!"27  or,  "Go  to  Pennsyl- 
vania ! " 28  or,  ' '  Take  no  care  for  thy  business. "  29  It 
may  be  in  the  form  of  consolation  or  reassurance: 
"Thy  sins  are  forgiven  thee";30  or,  "Fear  not,  oh, 
thou  tossed!"31  or,  "Thou  shalt  walk  with  me  in 
white."32  It  is  often  a  question,— " Paul,  Paul,  why 
persecutest  thou  me?"33  or,  "Oh,  sinner,  did  I  suffer 
for  thee?"34  and  it  is  at  times  an  ejaculation,  like 
"Helios!"35  or,  "Eternity,  eternity,  the  endless  term 
of  long  eternity ! " 36  Plain,  final  statements,  such  as 
' '  Life  and  death  consist  in  loving  God, " 87  or,  "  It  is 
finished, ' ' 38  are  very  effective  suggestions  to  a  sensi- 
tive person.  It  is  not  forgotten  that  to  Luther  the 


286  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

statement  was  simply,  "the  just  shall  live  by  faith." 
If  in  the  nature  of  a  vision,  this  suggestion  usually 
takes  the  form  of  the  figure  of  Christ ; 39  although  often 
that  of  Mary,40  and  sometimes  the  Holy  Child.41  The 
dazzling  lights42  which  accompany  this  crisis  have 
been  variously  interpreted  by  the  devout  and  by  the 
neurologist ;  while  monstrous  and  devilish  visions  4S  tes- 
tify to  the  vivid  imagination  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
When  we  remember  Dr.  Sidis's  observation  that  "a 
familiar  thing,  in  a  strange  abnormal  position  or 
shape,  produces  the  most  effective  suggestion, ' ' 44 — 
then  many  of  these  apparitions,  such  as  Loyola's  plec- 
trum and  the  Crucifix  of  Colonel  Gardiner,  become 
the  more  readily  comprehensible. 

In  giving  this  somewhat  long  introduction  to  the 
analysis  of  the  cases  themselves,  we  have  a  little  de- 
parted from  our  original  inductive  plan.  By  so  do- 
ing, however,  we  have  but  followed  the  injunction  of 
no  less  a  mind  than  that  of  Auguste  Comte.  "  If  it  be 
true/'  said  Comte,  "that  every  theory  must  be  based 
upon  observed  facts,  it  is  equally  true  that  facts  can- 
not be  observed  without  the  guidance  of  some  theory. 
Without  such  guidance,  our  facts  would  be  desultory 
and  fruitless ;  we  could  not  retain  them,  for  the  most 
part  we  could  not  even  perceive  them. ' ' 45  Dealing 
with  data  so  chaotic  and  often  so  emotionally  over- 
charged as  that  concerning  conversion,  a  need  of  guid- 
ance becomes  obvious.  But  the  reader  need  now  no 
longer  be  withheld  from  exercising  his  logical  powers 
over  the  problem  presented  by  the  cases  themselves. 

"I  was  one  night  alone,"  says  Henry  Alline,46 
4 '  pondering  on  my  lost  condition,  when  all  of  a  sudden 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  III  287 

I  was  surrounded  with  an  uncommon  light  like  a  blaze 
of  fire ;  I  was  plunged  into  keen  despair,  every  power 
of  my  mind  was  strained  with  terror  and  surprise. . . . " 
Visions  of  damnation,  with  tempting  by  beautiful 
fiends,  followed:  "One  midnight  I  was  awaked  out 
of  sleep  by  a  still,  small  voice.  ...  I  thought  I  saw 
a  small  body  of  light  as  plain  as  possible  before  me." 
Recurrences  of  a  similar  kind  are  many,  and  when  at 
length  he  picks  up  his  Bible  and  opens  it  at  random, 
he  is  ' '  inexpressibly  ravished. "  * '  My  whole  soul, ' '  he 
declares,  "seemed  filled  with  the  Divine  Being." 

Elizabeth  Ashbridge,  Quaker,  thus  describes  "the 
peculiar  exercise"  which  befell  her  at  the  fateful  mo- 
ment: "I  thought  myself  sitting  by  a  fire,  in  com- 
pany with  several  others,  when  there  arose  a  thunder- 
gust,  and  a  voice  as  loud  as  from  a  mighty  trumpet 
pierced  my  ears  with  these  words,  'Oh  Eternity! 
Eternity,  the  endless  term  of  long  eternity!'  !  Her 
heart  is  alarmed  and  melted  by  this  manifestation. 

Augustin's  account  is  a  world-possession.  After 
he  was  "sick  and  tormented,"  we  hear  of  the  agony, 
the  storm,  the  healing  outburst  of  tears,  the  inward 
voice  bidding,  "Tolle,  lege!"  of  which  he  says:  "Nor 
could  I  ever  remember  to  have  heard  the  like,"  and 
at  which  "all  the  gloom  of  doubt  vanished  away." 
In  whatever  connection  it  is  regarded,  the  beauty  and 
intensity  of  this  record  remain  unsurpassed.  Equally 
well  known  is  Bunyan's  narrative,  wherein,  during 
a  game,  "a  voice  from  heaven  did  suddenly  fall  into 
my  soul. ' '  During  prayer,  he  fancied  the  Devil  pulled 
his  clothes;  but  the  moment  which  he  called  conver- 
sion, was  followed  by  recurring  clouds  of  darkness. 


288  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

Peter  Cartwright,  the  Evangelist,  who  does  not  men- 
tion any  preceding  melancholy,  has  a  sudden  and  aw- 
ful experience  at  the  age  of  sixteen.47  "It  seemed 
to  me,"  he  writes,  "all  of  a  sudden  my  blood  rushed 
to  my  head,  my  heart  palpitated,  in  a  few  minutes  I 
turned  blind,  an  awful  impression  rested  on  my  mind 
that  death  had  come. ' '  The  excitement  following  this 
condition  was  fostered  by  his  pious  mother;  and  he 
was  not  calmed  until  a  voice  called  to  him,  ' '  when  out 
alone  in  the  horse-lot." 

The  rare  tract  in  which  John  Crook  tells  of  his 
experiences  is  written  in  a  style  of  extraordinary 
vividness.  After  his  anguish  and  tribulation,  one 
morning  on  a  sudden  there  "sprang  in  me  a  voice, 
saying,  'Fear  not,  oh,  thou  tossed';  whereupon  all 
was  hushed  and  quieted  within  me.  Here  was  such 
calm  and  stillness,  I  was  filled  with  peace  and  joy,  and 
there  shone  such  an  inward  light  that  for  the  space  of 
seven  or  eight  days  I  walked  as  one  taken  from  the 
earth."  The  revivalist,  C.  G.  Finney,  underwent  a 
strange  and  oppressed  feeling,  as  if  he  were  about 
to  die.  On  walking  to  his  law  office,  an  inward  voice 
accosted  him ;  and  later,  arising  from  prayer,  and  open- 
ing the  door  of  his  room,  Jesus  stood  before  him  in 
the  flesh.  Both  lights  and  voices  beset  George  Fox,  in 
the  wilderness  during  his  religious  travail,  much  as  the 
demons  in  form  and  sound  beset  Guibert  de  Nogent  in 
his  monastery.  Luther  was  sitting  in  his  cell,  several 
years  after  his  first  depression,  when  he  was  struck 
by  the  words,  "The  just  shall  live  by  faith."  Mme. 
Guyon  is  turned  by  hearing  a  voice  which  tells 
her  she  is  the  bride  of  God.  This  same  idea  we  find 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  III  289 

in  many  earlier  cases  of  mystical  women.  Joseph 
Hoag  had  been  in  such  a  state  that  (he  says)  "my 
eyes  looked  ghastly/'  when  his  conversion  came.  "I 
laid  down  in  weakness  and  heard  as  plain  a  whisper  as 
ever  I  heard  from  a  human  heing : '  Surrender — or  you 
shall  die  and  go  to  the  place  of  everlasting  torment ! '  : 
He  could  only  whisper  the  Lord's  Prayer,  and  the 
cloud  was  lifted.  The  conversion  of  St.  Patrick  is 
accompanied  by  the  vision  of  the  sun,  whereat  he  cried, 
4 'Helios!" — but  he  also  hears  a  voice  when  asleep  in 
the  wilderness.  As  Oliver  Sansom,  a  Quaker,  "lay  in 
bed  in  the  morning  early,  I  heard  as  it  were  an  audi- 
ble voice  which  said  unto  me,  'Take  no  care  for  thy 
business.'  :  Suso  has  supernatural  raptures  and  is 
caught  up  in  ecstasy,  during  which  what  he  saw  and 
heard  no  tongue  can  tell.  He  had  been  a  monk  for 
five  years  before  his  conversion;  and  thereafter  his 
visions  were  many,  and  progressed  from  those  of 
beauty  to  those  of  horror.  Although  Teresa's  visions 
and  voices  are  many,  they  are  not  attached  to  any 
conversion  in  the  ordinary  sense ;  but  came  afterwards, 
and  accompanied  her  progress  along  the  way  of  mysti- 
cism and  sanctity.  "When  I  kneeled  down,"  says 
Whitefield,  "I  felt  great  heavings  in  my  body  .  .  . 
sweat  came  through  me";  Satan  terrifies  him,  yet 
he  observes  that  he  had  no  visions,  only  the  fear  of 
them.  The  physical  disturbances  are  as  great  as 
though  the  vision  of  the  Lord  had  occurred. 

Gertrude  of  Eisleben  writes  very  beautifully  about 
the  circumstances  of  her  conversion  which  began 
"sweetly  and  charmingly,"  she  says,  "by  appeasing 
the  trouble  which  thou  hadst  excited  in  my  soul  for 


290  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

more  than  a  month  ...  on  raising  my  head  I  beheld 
thee  .  .  .  under  the  form  of  a  youth  of  sixteen  years, 
beautiful  and  amiable. ' '  During  a  severe  illness  about 
this  time,  Jesus  visits  and  consoles  her,  while  she  ob- 
serves that  he  is  wearing  a  necklace  of  gold  and  rose- 
color.  It  is  interesting  to  find  her  declaring  that  fear 
was  the  first  element  of  her  conversion.  Like  the  fore- 
going— like  almost  all,  indeed,  of  the  mediaeval  mys- 
tics— the  conversion-visions  of  Ignatius  Loyola  are  of 
a  beautiful  and  ravishing  kind.  * '  On  a  certain  night, 
as  he  lay  awake,  he  saw  with  open  face  the  likeness  of 
the  blessed  Mother  of  God  with  her  holy  child 
Jesus, "  and  from  that  moment  felt  all  carnal  desires 
vanish.  Later  on,  the  character  of  the  phenomena 
changes  much  for  the  worse;  serpents  with  eyes  and 
strange  demons  replace  the  lovely  picture  of  the 
mother  and  child.  It  is  also  the  Holy  Child  in  the 
mother's  arms  who  smiled  on  Salimbene  in  the  chapel. 
The  abbot  Othloh  of  St.  Emmeran48  in  Regensburg 
was  converted  without  long  preliminary  agony: — 
"As  he  was  sitting  one  day  before  the  gates  of  the 
monastery,"  says  the  translator,  "reading  his  favor- 
ite author  Lucan  ...  a  blast  of  hot  wind  .  .  .  smote 
him  three  times,"  so  "violently  that  he  took  his  book 
and  retired  within  the  guest-house. ' '  While  he  mused 
upon  this  circumstance,  the  account  says  that  "he 
felt  himself  seized  by  the  grasp  of  a  monster  .  .  .  and 
fell  into  the  delirium  of  high  fever."  Othloh  does 
not  connect  this  occurrence  with  his  soul's  welfare 
until  a  week  later,  when,  in  the  intervals  of  his  malady, 
a  mysterious  form  comes  to  his  bedside  and  belabors 
him  with  a  scourge.  He  needs  a  third  warning,  how- 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  III  291 

ever,  ere  he  can  bring  himself  to  abandon  his  Lucan 
and  complete  his  conversion.  Jerome  was  similarly 
accused  in  a  dream  of  loving  Cicero  better  than 
Christ.49 

The  conversion  of  Emanuel  Swedenborg  takes  place 
in  his  middle  age — at  fifty-five  years.  It  is  accom- 
panied by  so  many  visions  and  voices  that  the  exact  mo- 
ment is  a  little  difficult  to  determine.  The  "Spiritual 
Diary"  notes  miraculous  lights,  words  heard  in  the 
early  morning,  horrors,  flames,  and  talks  with  spirits. 

The  mystic,  John  Tauler,  one  night  in  prayer  hears 
a  voice  by  his  bodily  ears  whereat  his  senses  leave  him. 
When  they  return,  he  finds  himself  calm  and  peaceful, 
with  fresh  understanding.50  In  the  famous  case  of 
Colonel  James  Gardiner,  the  subject  saw  "a  visible 
representation  of  Christ  on  a  cross  surrounded  by  a 
glory  while  a  voice  cried,  '  Oh,  sinner,  did  I  suffer  for 
thee?'  '  He  sunk  down  in  his  armchair,  and  re- 
mained for  a  long  time  insensible.  All  that  Ephraim 
of  Edessa 51  tells  us  in  the  metrical  account  of  his 
conversion  is  that  he  had  been  quarrelsome  and  cruel 
to  animals,  but  that  a  spirit  came  to  him  and  his  heart 
was  touched.  No  doubt  the  moment  was  accompanied 
with  a  mystical  manifestation,  but  we  get  no  details; 
the  early  date  alone  makes  the  document  worth  noting. 
It  is  suggestive  to  contrast  the  account  given  by  the 
Indian  prophetess,  Catherine  Wabose,  during  a  con- 
version prepared  for  by  solitude  and  fasting.  She 
saw  many  points  of  light,  which  seemed  to  approach 
and  to  prick  her;  she  heard  the  god's  voice  and  re- 
ceived a  prophecy  concerning  her  future  son. 

The  anchoress  Juliana  has  left  a  series  of  chaotic 


292  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

revelations,  much  like  Hildegarde  's,  which  do  not 
mark  an  exact  conversion.  Of  this  she  did  not  seem  to 
feel  the  need.  They  are  mystical  revelations  from  the 
beginning,  which  is  so  gradual  that  no  moment's  crisis 
or  change  is  remarked.  This  is  an  especial  character- 
istic of  mediaeval  religious  experience;  though  not 
universal.  The  visions  which  turned  Carlo  da  Sezze 
was  one  of  the  Devil  coming  from  hell.  'Jesus  ap- 
peared to  Baptiste  Varani,  as  a  handsome  youth  with 
curling  hair  and  robed  in  white  and  gold,  beseeching 
her  to  take  the  vows.  God's  voice  speaking  to  her 
soul  moved  Antoinette  Bourignon,  when  at  eighteen 
she  wept  and  prayed  for  guidance.  The  account  of 
Joseph  Smith,  the  Mormon,  is  as  follows :  "I  kneeled 
down  and  began  to  offer  up  the  desire  of  my  heart  to 
God.  ...  I  had  scarcely  done  so  when  immediately  I 
was  seized  upon  by  some  power  which  utterly  over- 
came me,  and  had  such  an  astonishing  influence 
over  me  as  to  blind  my  tongue  so  that  I  could  not 
speak.  Thick  darkness  gathered  round  me.  .  .  .  But 
exciting  my  powers  to  call  upon  God  to  deliver  me  ... 
just  at  this  moment  of  great  alarm,  I  saw  a  pillar  of 
light  exactly  over  my  head,  above  the  brightness  of 
the  sun,  which  descended  gradually  until  it  fell  upon 
me.  ...  I  found  myself  delivered  from  the  enemy 
which  held  me  bound. ' '  He  then  had  a  further  vision 
of  two  bright  personages  standing  in  the  air,  one  of 
which  pointed  to  the  other,  saying:  "This  is  my  be- 
loved Son,  hear  him ! "  A  conversion  followed ;  after 
which  Smith  fell,  unconscious.  He  adds:  "When  the 
light  had  departed,  I  had  no  strength";  but  he  went 
home  exultant  and  satisfied.  The  effect  of  the  vision 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  III  293 

was  not  only  to  reassure  his  faith,  but  it  testified  to 
the  Lord's  choice  of  him  as  Prophet.  In  his  grand- 
father's case,  the  light  had  been  a  "fiery  point";  and 
his  aunt  had  been  miraculously  cured  by  a  "bright" 
vision  of  the  Saviour.  Smith's  case  is  thus  found  to 
be  analogous  to  much  more  famous  experiences. 

Of  Pascal's  conversion  we  know  only  what  was  re- 
corded upon  the  paper  which  he  wore  ever  after  about 
his  neck.  He  had  been  in  bad  health  for  some  years. 
One  night,  unable  to  sleep,  he  lay  reading  the  Gospel 
of  'John.  He  writes  these  words:  "Between  10.30 
in  the  evening  and  12.30— FIRE."  Then  he  adds: 
"Certitude,  peace  and  Joy — !"  and  again,  "Joy!" 
and  "Tears  of  Joy!"  There  is  no  accent  more  poig- 
nant in  all  religious  literature  than  this  brief  note 
records.52 

To  the  nun  Osanna  Andreasi,  an  angel  showed  the 
universe;  while  a  voice  within  her  heart  uttered  the 
words :  ' '  Life  and  Death  consist  in  loving  God. ' '  To 
the  Banter,  Joseph  Salmon,  the  voice  said : '  '  Arise  and 
depart,  for  this  is  not  your  rest ! "  He  adds,  quaintly : 
"I  was  suddenly  struck  dead  to  all  my  wonted  enjoy- 
ments. .  .  .  When  my  three  dayes  or  set  time  was  ex- 
pired, I  begann  to  feele  some  quickening  comforte 
within  me  ...  the  gravestone  was  rolled  away  and  I 
set  at  liberty  from  these  deep  and  dark  retires;  out 
I  came  with  a  most  serene  and  cheerful  countenance 
into  a  most  heavenly  and  divine  enjoyment." 

The  words  which  conveyed  a  conviction  of  joy  to 
J.  Hudson-Taylor  were,  "It  is  finished";  in  which  the 
power  of  a  suggestion  is  very  plainly  indicated.  The 
Reverend  Gardiner  Spring,  after  much  wrestling, 


294  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

found  "the  Word  precious  and  refreshing."  Uber- 
tino  da  Casale  beheld  in  his  sleep  an  "alarming  vision 
of  God, ' '  just  before  Angela  of  Foligno  had  shown  him 
the  true  way;  and  writes:  "All  my  lukewarmness  of 
soul  as  well  as  my  corporal  infirmities  disappeared." 
The  famous  dream  of  Jerome  has  already  received  our 
attention;  we  have  noted  that,  when  he  is  later  ac- 
cused by  Rufinus  of  still  reading,  "my  Tully,"  his 
defence  is  that  he  cannot  be  bound  by  a  promise  given 
in  a  dream!  This  conversion,  therefore,  is  unusual 
in  its  effect  on  the  mind  of  the  converted  subject. 
Rolle  of  Hampole  beautifully  describes  his  conversion 
in  the  chapel  where  he  sat  at  prayer.  He  heard  strains 
of  music,  and  felt  "a  merry  heat  and  unknown.  .  .  . 
Forsooth,"  he  continues,  "my  thought  continually  to 
mirth  of  song  was  changed. ' '  This  lovely  conjunction 
of  piety  and  music  was  also  felt  by  Jonathan  Edwards, 
whose  own  tranquilly- joyful  confidence  in  God's  love 
is  very  different  from  the  terror  he  felt  obliged  to 
preach  to  others.  ' '  To  soliloquize  in  a  singing  voice, ' ' 
was  his  impulse  and  delight,  and  this  brought  about 
"a  sweet  complacency  in  God."  One  vision  came 
to  him  in  the  woods.  "The  person  of  Christ,"  he 
writes,  "appeared  ineffably  excellent";  and  caused 
him  to  weep  for  joy. 

Startling  dreams  and  visions  beset  Joanna  South- 
cott,  who  had  one  struggle  with  Satan  lasting  ten 
days,  during  which  she  was  beaten  black  and  blue 
ere  she  obtained  peace.  An  illness  due  to  meningitis 
caused  many  devils  to  torment  poor  little  Sister 
Therese  of  the  Holy  Child ;  but  a  vision  of  the  Virgin 
announced  her  recovery  and  conversion.  A  similar 53 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  III  295 

vision,  emerging  from  a  black  cross  in  the  Church  of 
Aracoeli,  brought  about  the  very  rapid  conversion  of 
the  young  Jew,  Alphonse  de  Eatisbonne.  The  nun, 
Veronique  Giuliani,  seemed  to  think  that  she  needed 
no  conversion;  for  Christ  himself  offered  her  the 
chalice  of  the  passion  and  crowned  her  with  his  crown 
of  thorns.  Carre  de  Montgeron  was  one  of  those  con- 
verted at  the  tomb  of  the  Archdeacon  Paris.  There 
were  so  many  of  these,  and  so  much  disturbance  re- 
sulted, that  the  authorities  were  forced  to  close  the 
cemetery  to  the  crowds.  Carre  remained  there,  kneel- 
ing, for  four  hours.  Maria  d'  Agreda  was  never  con- 
verted ;  but  she  obtained  relief  from  despair  and  temp- 
tations by  writing  down  her  visions.  A.  C.  Emmerich 
also  took  the  veil  after  a  vision  during  which  she,  too, 
was  crowned  with  thorns. 

Rulman  Merswin  before  conversion  suffered  "the 
pains  of  hell"  for  all  of  three  years.  "A  great  and 
superhuman  joy"  followed  for  a  brief  space.  With 
Gertrude  More,  the  struggle  to  renounce  was  long  and 
bitter,  until,  as  she  writes,  she  was  "almost  desper- 
ate ' ' ;  and  it  was  made  the  harder  for  her  by  the  un- 
sympathetic and  harsh  treatment  of  her  director. 
Under  another  guidance,  "more  by  quietness  than 
force,"  she  found  herself  so  calmed  that  she  wondered. 
The  influence  of  the  director  in  these  Catholic  cases 
can  hardly  be  overestimated,  since  the  isolation  and 
sensitiveness  of  these  cloistered  persons  renders  it  of 
particular  importance.  We  know  the  tragedy  to  which 
it  led  in  the  story  of  the  priest  Urbain  Grandier  and 
the  nuns  of  Loudun ;  and  it  is  a  marked  factor  in  the 
example  of  Jeanne  de  St.  Mathieu  Deleloe.  Vowed  to 


296  HELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

the  Blessed  Virgin  from  her  infancy,  this  girl  of  six- 
teen entered  joyously  upon  her  convent-life.  Her 
happiness  brings  her  a  keen  sense  of  God's  love  and 
favor;  she  sees  the  Holy  Mother  blessing  her  with  a 
smile,  and  the  mystery  of  the  Trinity  is  revealed  to  her 
in  a  vision.  But  the  convent-superior  and  her  director 
both  told  her  that  she  was  presumptuous  and  tempted 
by  the  Devil ;  and  at  once  the  visions  turned  horrible, 
painful,  and  perverse.  Assailed  by  temptations  both 
carnal  and  blasphemous,  she  undergoes  every  emotion 
of  horror  and  agony;  is  converted,  and  reconverted, 
amid  relapses  and  diabolic  visitations  of  a  cruelly  tor- 
menting kind. 

.  The  reader  has  already  observed  that  in  the  me- 
diaeval cases,  the  mystical  and  visionary  manifesta- 
tions are  nearer  to  the  normal  life;  and  the  conver- 
sion-crisis itself  is  less  easily  denned.  How  should 
Gertrude  or  Hildegarde  or  Mechtilde,  come  to  re- 
gard the  sights  and  sounds,  with  which  their  ec- 
stasies were  rewarded,  as  indicating  any  especial  crisis  ? 
Most  of  their  companions  were  similarly  favored.  The 
Holy  Child  himself  gaily  awoke  the  inmates  of  Mech- 
tilde 's  convent  at  dawn ;  while  seraphim  waving  lights 
preceded  them  into  the  chapel.  Such  frequent  mani- 
festation brought  no  feeling  of  crucial  significance; 
and  thus  conversion  in  the  meaning  of  new  life  there 
was  not — all  these  emotions  and  their  attendant  phe- 
nomena were  but  stages  in  the  via  mystica. 

Not  so  the  conversions  of  the  group  next  to  be  con- 
sidered. To  them,  this  mystical  moment  possessed 
every  element  of  fear  and  of  crisis,  heightened  by  un- 
expectedness and  bizarrerie.  The  seventeenth  and 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  III  297 

eighteenth  century  pietists  were  many  degrees  away 
from  the  mediaeval  mystics ;  upon  the  former  already 
an  active,  material  world  impressed  its  complete  ob- 
jectivity, so  that  for  them  voices  and  visions  and  devils 
possessed  additional  horror  beside  the  supernatural. 
They  voice  this  horror  by  their  intensity.  One  hears 
of  Billy  Bray  shouting,  "Come  on,  thou  devil!"  and 
afterwards  dancing  and  leaping  in  praise  of  his  vic- 
tory. Equally  vehement  was  Jerry  McAuley  when  he 
seemed  to  feel  a  hand  laid  on  his  shoulder,  and  a  voice 
assuring  him  of  forgiveness.  The  evangelist  Jacob 
Knapp  felt  himself  actually  to  be  sinking  into  hell 
when  Jesus  descended  to  save  him.  The  visual  and 
auditory  manifestations  of  the  Friends  and  Methodists 
partake  in  character  of  the  stern  sense  of  sin,  pre- 
vailing among  these  groups.  Thus,  Margaret  Lucas's 
account  states  that  the  truth  seized  upon  her  in  a 
"lively"  manner;  after  she  had  "cursed  the  Lord 
and  defied  Heaven"  by  a  Voice  which  rung  in  her 
soul.  Mildred  Ratcliff  was  in  meeting  when  she  felt 
a  hand  laid  on  her  shoulder,  while  a  voice  said: 
"Thou  hast  no  business  here."  This  marks  the  turn- 
ing-point to  a  mind  much  exercised  about  the  state 
of  irreligion  in  France!  To  young  Stephen  Grellet, 
at  twenty-two,  "walking  in  the  fields,  my  mind  being 
under  no  sort  of  religious  concern  nor  excitement, 
there  came  suddenly  an  awful  voice  proclaiming, 
'Eternity,  Eternity!'"  The  empty  fields  were  the 
scene  of  many  a  conflict.  Here  Anna  Braithwaite  ob- 
served that  "a  flood  of  light  seemed  to  shine  on  my 
understanding,  .  .  .  my  heart  was  humbled." 
Samuel  Neale  combated  with  the  Devil  until  his  shirt 


298  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

was  wringing  wet.  Two  ploughmen,  'James  Naylor 
and  Myles  Halhead,  heard  the  voice,  just  as  did  Tol- 
stoi's Levin,  while  at  their  work.  The  first  says:  "I 
rejoyced  and  obeyed."  The  other  speaks  of  "this 
voice — this  heavenly  voice  did  make  my  heart  leap 
with  Joy ! ' '  Similarly,  it  is  an  intelligible  voice,  which 
causes  Mary  Hagger  to  kneel  down  under  "a  contrit- 
ing  impression."  Thomas  Story,  a  man  who  notes 
minutely  every  operation  of  mind  and  change  of  mood, 
is  plunged  in  darkness,  when  he  hears  a  voice  within 
say,  "Thy  will  be  done,"  and  immediately  is  calmed 
and  relieved.  Much  more  explicit  is  the  voice  to  Jane 
Hoskins,  for,  during  a  sore  fit  of  sickness,  it  says  to 
her:  "If  I  restore  thee,  go  to  Pennsylvania."  Later 
on,  after  spending  a  penitential  season  with  godly  sor- 
row, it  directs  her  to  be  obedient  and  she  is  once  again 
eased.  But  when  the  voice  bids  her  to  speak  in  meet- 
ing, she  resists,  and  is  overwhelmed  with  horror  until 
she  yields. 

A  vision  of  a  black  man  at  the  crisis,  followed 
by  dreams  of  him,  directly  caused  the  conversion  of 
T.  R.  Gates.  Dazzling  lights  add  their  warning. 
David  Brainerd  describes  the  warning  influence  as 
"a  glory  unspeakable!"  On  the  contrary,  Luther 
Rice  feels  as  if  descending  into  hell,  and  is  quieted 
only  by  signing  his  name  to  a  blank  sheet  of  paper  for 
God  to  fill  up  with  his  destiny.  David  Marks  and 
Elias  Smith  were  both  stunned  by  bad  falls  in  the 
woods,  and  immediately  were  possessed  by  the  fear  of 
hell.  In  both  cases  this  is  succeeded  by  a  beautiful 
serenity;  the  latter  felt  it  to  so  great  an  extent  that 
he  sang  aloud.  We  have  already  mentioned  the 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  III  299 

visionary  terrors  which  beset  James  H.  Linsley  just 
before  conversion,  in  which  infernal  spirits  and  devil- 
tigers  take  part.  The  conversion  itself  was  brought 
about  by  his  cry,  "Lord,  I  believe " — at  which,  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye,  he  is  perfectly  calm  and  joyful. 

The  visions  in  many  Methodist  cases  are  fantastic. 
That  of  John  Haime  names  a  "creature''  flying  over 
his  head.  Another,  Thomas  Payne,  sees  two  beasts; 
one  a  large  bear-like  animal ;  when  he  called  it  Satan, 
and  bade  it  go,  it  disappeared.  The  light  which  Mary 
Fletcher  beholds,  she  describes  rather  as  steady  than 
dazzling;  a  voice  whispers:  "Thou  shalt  walk  with 
me  in  white."  John  Furz  feels  a  freezing  cold  run 
through  his  every  vein,  while  he  is  kneeling  in  the 
garden  overwhelmed  with  agonies  of  terror.  It  is  a 
still,  small  voice  which  assures  him  of  pardon,  and  im- 
mediately darkness  turns  to  light  and  he  obtains  per- 
manent relief. 

The  crucial  suggestion  may  take  various  shapes. 
Although  Richard  Whatcoat  was  overwhelmed  with 
darkness  and  could  take  no  rest  by  day  or  night,  yet 
one  day,  while  reading,  he  fixes  his  attention  on  a 
certain  verse,  and  the  cloud  rolls  away.  He  then  gets 
sleep,  which  he  much  needed.  Upon  B.  Hibbard, 
Jesus  appeared  to  look  down  compassionately,  and  he 
cried  out:  "Glory!  Glory!"  Light  shone  suddenly 
at  midnight  on  Jacob  Young,  and  he  says:  "I  arose 
from  the  floor  praising  God."  To  Thomas  Taylor, 
Christ  appeared  as  if  on  the  cross,  with  his  vesture 
dipped  in  blood.  Thomas  Hanson  writes  that  during 
prayer,  "my  heart,  with  a  kind  sweet  struggle  melted 
into  the  hand  of  God."  It  is  in  meeting  that  Thomas 


300  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

"Walsh  was  " pierced  as  with  darts  and  arrows";  and 
there  he  is  finally  delivered  and  breaks  out  into  tears 
of  joy  and  love.  John  Prickard  feels  heaven  in  his 
heart;  while  Peter  Jaco,  during  a  solitary  walk,  was 
impressed  with  the  suggestion  that  Jesus  died  for  the 
vilest  sinner,  and  at  once  his  soul  was  filled  with  light 
and  love. 

The  burden  of  Thomas  Olivers  falls  from  him  upon 
the  shining  of  a  star.  Thomas  Lee  says  that  "God 
broke  in  on  my'  soul  in  a  wonderful  manner. ' '  Mat- 
thias Joyce  has  ever  more  horrors  than  peace ;  yet  once 
during  prayer  he  thinks  that  he  is  sanctified.  While 
poor  John  Gratton  was  alone  on  the  moor  pulling 
heath,  he  felt  something  "swift  and  precious  and 
knows  it  is  the  spirit."  Thereupon,  he  has  a  vision 
of  a  people,  "poor  and  despised,  the  Lord's  own"; 
and  at  once  joins  the  Quakers.  "William  Williams  was 
converted  in  meeting;  and  writes  that  it  was  indeed 
*  *  an  awfully  solemn  time. ' ' 

An  assurance  of  pardon  is  often  the  only  suggestion 
that  is  needed  to  bring  harmony  once  more  to  what 
Hamlet  calls  "this  distracted  globe";  but  it  is  not 
always  so.  Fear  is  sometimes  more  powerful  than  for- 
giveness ;  and  suggestion  takes  the  form  of  a  command. 
To  Richard  Rodda,  it  was  declared, ' '  Thy  sins  are  for- 
given thee."  But  the  voice  which  comforted  John 
Pawson  was  not  so  encouraging  to  Freeborn  Garret- 
son — it  was  an  awful  voice  and  cried :  "Awake,  sinner, 
for  you  are  not  prepared  to  die ! ' '  Such  a  voice  also 
bids  William  Jackson  give  up  everything  but  Christ. 
Matthew  Arnold  has  made  the  vision  of  Sampson 
Staniforth  the  property  of  all  literature.  He  is  on 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  III  301 

sentry-duty,  when  he  kneels  and  prays,  clouds  open 
exceedingly  bright,  and  he  sees  Christ  upon  the  Cross. 
Lorenzo  Dow  avows  that  his  manifestations  have  come 
to  him  in  dreams;  though  these  are  dreams  of  hell, 
and  so  hideous  that  they  caused  him  to  cry  out : ' '  Lord, 
I  give  up,  I  submit,  I  yield ! "  So  also  Richard  Wil- 
liams, a  surgeon,  during  a  sudden  delirium,  suddenly 
screams :  ' '  Lord,  I  come ! ' '  and  is  immediately  calmed. 
On  the  other  hand,  David  Nitschman  has  only  to  say 
to  himself:  "I  will  suppose  there  be  a  God,"  whence 
he  is  immediately  filled  with  a  strange  sweetness. 
Henry  Ward  Beecher's  peace  comes  to  his  soul  "like 
the  bursting-forth  of  Spring."  The  Divine  voice  in 
"emphatic"  accents  moves  Granville  Moody.  A  con- 
version following  the  Holy  Sacrament,  is  the  experi- 
ence of  the  modern  nun,  Mary  of  the  Divine  Heart, 
who,  however,  carefully  specifies  that  the  voice  nam- 
ing her  "Spouse"  was  wholly  "interior." 

The  uniformity  of  effect  in  these  cases  will  not  have 
escaped  the  reader.  Confirmation  of  their  evidence  is 
to  be  found  in  those  lives  and  legends  whose  non-auto- 
biographical character  does  not  bring  them,  strictly 
speaking,  within  the  scope  of  this  book.  Among  these 
is  that  of  Catherine  of  Genoa's  conversion,  as  told  in 
her  "Vita"  on  familiar  lines.54  After  intense  dis- 
tress for  months,  she  told  her  sister  that  she  felt  dis- 
inclined to  confession ;  but  yielded  to  the  other's  advice 
and  knelt  before  the  priest.  While  in  this  position, 
she  was  penetrated  by  a  feeling  of  all-purifying  love, 
and  in  a  transport,  cried  out  to  herself:  "No  more 
sins — no  more  sins!"  Her  health  throughout  all  her 
life  was  subject  to  strange  fluctuations;  she  felt  con- 


302  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

stantly  as  though  she  were  burning  up,  and  absorbed 
her  food  so  rapidly  that  she  could  not  get  sufficient 
sustenance  therefrom. 

Long  ere  this,  the  reader  will  have  commented  upon 
a  seeming  omission;  and  in  truth  we  must  delay  no 
further  to  examine  what  is  probably  the  most  impor- 
tant of  all  conversions — the  conversion  of  Paul.55 
His  experience,  in  the  three  accounts  which  remain 
to  us,  offers  an  apparent  contradiction  to  the  law  which 
psychology  has  formulated  for  the  government  of  such 
cases.  For  this  reason,  if  for  no  other,  Paul's  case  is 
the  mainstay  of  those  writers  and  preachers  who  hold 
that  conversion  is,  in  itself,  proof  of  the  existence  of 
the  supernatural.  They  point  also  in  support  of  this 
belief  to  one  or  two  other  cases — to  Augustin,  for 
instance;  but  they  rely  on  none  with  so  much  confi- 
dence as  on  that  of  Paul.  Here  is  a  case,  they  repeat, 
for  which  reason  cannot  account,  nor  can  comparison 
explain.  The  subject  is  a  young  man  of  practical 
energy,  neither  humble  nor  illiterate,  familiar  with 
Greek  philosophy,  and  already  bestirring  himself  in 
the  world  of  affairs.  Moreover,  his  mind  is  filled  with 
antagonism  to  Christianity ;  he  is  on  his  way  from  per- 
secuting the  Christians  in  one  place  to  persecute 
them  in  another.  His  conversion  occurs  at  midday; 
with  no  premonitory  doubts  or  darkness.  He  is  smit- 
ten without  warning  to  the  earth ;  God 's  voice  in  ac- 
cusing question  thunders  in  his  ears ;  he  rises  a  Chris- 
tian, perhaps  the  greatest  of  Christians. 

Now,  the  isolation  of  any  fact  in  his  experience  from 
comparison  with  other  facts,  is  enough  at  once  for 
the  subject  to  infer  a  miracle.  To  the  savage,  the  first 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  III  303 

white  man  he  sees  is  a  god ;  the  first  gun  he  hears  fired 
is  due  to  supernatural  force.  He  has  only  to  behold 
other  white  men,  to  hear  other  guns,  and  what  was 
miraculous  becomes  without  delay  both  natural  and 
hostile.  The  system  of  scrupulous  isolation  has  been 
applied  for  centuries  to  all  events  and  persons  men- 
tioned in  the  Bible ;  and  nowhere  to  more  purpose  than 
in  the  example  of  Paul.  As  an  influence,  it  extends  to 
modern  times,  to  higher  criticism,  and  to  rationalistic 
interpretation.  Thus,  even  Renan 56  is  to  be  found  at- 
tributing Paul's  vision  and  the  blinding  light,  to  a 
thunderstorm  and  a  simultaneous  attack  of  ophthal- 
mia. Any  superficial  comparison  of  Paul's  conversion 
with  other  conversions,  makes  a  thunderstorm  hypoth- 
esis wholly  superfluous.  The  vision  of  Jesus,  the  voice, 
the  dazzling  light,  are  characteristic  of  this  type  of  con- 
version, indoors  or  out,  storm  or  calm.  Yet  the  great 
French  critic  is  surely  right  when  he  insists  that  in  the 
history  of  an  epoch  where  only  an  ensemble  can  be 
certain,57  where  details  must  be  more  or  less  doubtful 
following  the  legendary  nature  of  the  documents, — 
then  hypothesis  becomes  indispensable.  In  this  par- 
ticular instance,  there  is  extant  a  sufficient  body  of  ma- 
terial on  which  needful  hypothesis  may  be  based. 

Paul  was  an  essentially  personal  religious  leader. 
From  his  speeches  repeated  in  Acts,58  from  his  letters, 
we  obtain  personal  matter  of  incontestable  authenticity. 
Omitting  any  references  to  the  disputed  Epistles,59 
there  yet  remains  ample  material  for  a  picture  of  this 
man.  Tradition  describes  Paul  as  slight  and  insignifi- 
cant in  appearance.60  His  constitution,  though  evi- 
dently wiry,  was  yet  not  healthy.  On  this  fact  he 


304  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

dwells  repeatedly,  even  alluding  to  chronic  infirmity.61 
No  doubt  the  reader  will  have  suggested  to  him  the 
physique  and  the  endurance  of  "Wesley;  yet  it  must 
not  be  forgotten  that  "Wesley's  from  the  first  was  a 
nature  distinctly  non-mystical.  Paul  very  positively 
assures  us,  on  the  contrary,  that  he  was  subject  to 
visionary  and  mystical  experiences.62 

These  facts  show  that  there  was  nothing  in  Paul's 
character  or  constitution  to  remove  him  beyond  the 
pale  of  comparison  with  other  cases.  That  he  was 
a  zealous  persecutor  of  Christians  does  not  indicate 
any  condition  of  mind  unique  in  the  history  of  conver- 
sion.63 Alphonse  de  Batisbonne,  if  not  a  persecutor 
of  Catholics,  was  at  least  violently  anti-Catholic  at  the 
moment  when  he  was  converted:  Paul  Lowengard 
was  violently  pro-Jewish  at  the  moment  he  was  turned 
from  Judaism:  Uriel  d'Acosta  experienced  successive 
conversions  always  in  a  state  of  extreme  antagonism 
to  the  faith  he  was  about  to  adopt:  and  James  Lack- 
ington,  Richard  "Williams,  and  others,  display  similar 
attitudes.  The  essential  condition  is,  not  that  a  man 
shall  be  favorably  inclined  toward  any  form  of  reli- 
gion, but  simply  that  the  subject  of  religion,  in  se,  shall 
be  uppermost  in  his  mind,  that  his  thoughts  and  actions 
shall  be  chiefly  occupied  with  it.  And  this  essential 
condition  we  see  Paul  eminently  fulfils.  It  is  the  mass 
of  emotion  generated  in  a  man  which  converts  him, 
rather  than  the  special  form  which  that  emotion  causes 
his  ideas  to  assume;  since  action  and  reaction  follow 
one  another  in  human  thoughts  as  inevitably  as  they 
do  in  human  affairs. 

Paul,  by  his  own  account,  was  ripe  for  a  reaction.64 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  III  305 

His  letters  indicate  that  he  was  a  man  of  warm  heart 
and  tender  sympathies;  and  it  is  impossible  that  the 
misery  caused  by  his  own  bigotry  should  not  at  mo- 
ments have  weighed  upon  him.  If  he  does  not  dis- 
tinctly say  so,  it  is  perhaps  because,  like  many  another 
convert  and  confessant,  he  allows  his  pre-converted 
state  to  loom  very  black,  that  his  converted  state  may 
shine  by  comparison.65 

But  it  is  by  no  means  certain  that  he  does  not  in- 
directly say  so;  that  he  is  so  sure  of  himself  as  his 
commentators  would  have  us  believe.  They  have  made 
very  much  of  Paul 's  confidence ;  his  certainty  that  he 
was  right  in  his  persecution  of  the  Christians.  This 
is  their  entire  foundation  for  the  assumption  that  his 
conversion  was  sui  generis,  because  there  was  no  pre- 
vious state  of  doubt,  no  darkness  to  be  dispelled,  no 
melancholy  to  be  lifted.  None  of  your  predisposing 
causes  existed  in  this  case,  they  argue;  only  the  hand 
of  God  could  smite  the  scoffer,  in  his  mid-career,  as 
Paul  was  smitten. 

Well,  there  is  probably  no  need  to  repeat  that  the 
character  of  Paul,  as  it  is  revealed  to  us  in  his  letters, 
is  that  of  a  zealot, — a  fanatic,  if  one  will,  but  one  with 
a  warm  and  tender  heart.  The  evidence  of  character, 
therefore,  is  strong  for  a  reaction,  ere  yet  he  started 
on  his  memorable  journey  to  Damascus.  Moreover, 
what  are  we  to  understand  by  that  phrase  which  the 
voice  uttered  immediately  after  the  accusing  ques- 
tion ?  ' '  It  is  hard  for  thee, ' '  so  the  text  runs,  * '  to  kick 
against  the  pricks. ' ' 66 

Renan 67  explains  the  phrase  as  meaning  Paul's  un- 
willingness; he  is  an  ox  forced  forward,  willy-nilly, 


306  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

by  his  Master's  goad.  Students  have  found  that  the 
words  ''to  kick  against  the  goad,"  came  from  a 
proverb  then  in  common  use.  But  in  this  connection 
they  surely  have  also  a  metaphorical  significance; 
what  can  they  mean  if  not  the  "goad"  of  conscience? 
"It  is  hard  for  thee  to  kick  against  thy  conscience — 
thy  struggle  is  over — "  says  the  voice,  just  as  it  said, 
"Surrender!"  to  Joseph  Hoag;  or,  "Thy  will  be 
done ! "  to  Thomas  Story,  or  to  another,  ' '  I  have  given 
thee  the  victory."  In  more  general  terms,  the  strain- 
ing doubt  of  self,  which  filled  Paul's  mind  when  he 
set  forth  upon  a  task  which  moved  him  with  increas- 
ing distaste  and  horror,  suddenly  resolved  into  a  defi- 
nite shape,  with  the  appeal  and  the  suggestion  of  a 
turn  to  Christianity.  The  first  suggestion  puts  him 
definitely  in  the  wrong  by  a  question  he  cannot  answer, 
for  he  knew  not  why  he  persecuted  Jesus.  The  second 
suggestion  sweeps  away  forever  all  obstructions  to  the 
new  current  of  energy,  to  the  new  faith,  by  showing 
him  that  he  cannot  resist,  that  he  must  go  forward 
upon  a  new  path,  spurred  by  that  force  within  of 
which  he  knows  not,  the  power  of  his  own  character,  of 
his  own  genius.  As  for  the  other  phenomena  of  this 
conversion;  comparison,  as  we  have  seen,  does  away 
with  the  need  of  any  naturalistic  explanation,  such  as 
Kenan's,  of  the  ophthalmia  and  the  thunderstorm.68 
Similar  cases  are  to  be  found  in  our  list  where  the 
subject  was  not  in  an  Arabian  desert  at  noon.  Paul 's 
after  experiences,  the  healing  visit  of  Ananias,  all 
link  him  to  that  group  to  whom  the  vision  and  the 
voice  bring  conversion,  but  a  complete  peace  and  as- 
surance do  not  come  till  a  few  days  later. 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  III  307 

The  subsequent  progress  of  Paul's  religious  feeling, 
the  development  of  his  character,  follow  the  leading 
of  his  energetic  will.  He  is  one  of  those  in  whom  the 
newly  generated  force  becomes  at  once  objective.  His 
organizing  genius  seeks  a  suitable  outlet ;  and  like  Au- 
gustin,  like  Wesley,  his  personal  problem  once  settled, 
it  does  not  rise  again,  and  he  turns  his  mind  to  other 
things.  Thus,  one  reads  little  further  about  his  per- 
sonal experiences ;  his  letters  draw  upon  the  past  only 
during  his  concern  to  make  his  belief  prevail.69  It  is 
interesting  to  find  that  from  repetition  his  account  of 
the  heavenly  voice  and  its  command  grows  elaborate 
and  detailed.  He  believes  that  it  commands  him  to 
do  this  and  that;  and,  as  he  tells  Agrippa,  he  was 
"not  disobedient  unto  the  heavenly  vision."  Very 
shortly  after  his  conversion,  indeed,  Paul  ceased  to 
tread  any  longer  upon  the  "mystical  way";  and  that 
he  began  to  concern  himself  more  with  the  welfare  of 
the  souls  of  others  than  with  his  own  soul,  is  a  fact 
to  which  we  owe  the  establishment  of  Christianity. 

Comparative  study  thus  destroys  the  theory  that 
Paul's  experience  was  unique.  He  is  linked  by  it  to 
many  an  ardent  and  devout  soul.  Analysis  of  his  nar- 
rative disposes  also  of  the  idea  that  the  vision  operated 
upon  a  sceptical  mind.  "La  condition  du  miracle," 
says  Renan,  "c'est  la  credulite  du  temoin."70  True 
it  is  in  every  sense  that  no  miracle  is  possible  with- 
out faith;  and  the  case  of  Paul  is  no  exception.  His 
mind  may  not  have  been  prepared,  yet  his  emo- 
tions were.  He  may  not  himself  have  been  conscious 
how  much  the  fortitude  of  Christian  victims  had  af- 
fected him  toward  their  leader ;  yet  he  was  so  affected. 


308  BELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

Full  of  doubt,  of  wonder,  of  dismay,  of  self-loathing, 
these  conflicting  sensations  pricked  his  soul  until  he 
could  resist  no  longer;  the  voice  spoke;  he  listened 
and  obeyed. 

Paul's  value  as  a  character  is  not  lessened  when 
he  is  found  to  be  one  of  a  group.  As  a  human  being 
he  is  subject  to  human  law;  and  nothing  can  be  gained 
by  trying  to  place  his  case  beyond  that  law.  To  a 
broad  mind,  the  beauty  of  human  achievement  is  not 
clouded  when  it  is  found  to  be  the  result  of  order  and 
of  nature.  Paul's  work  stands  out  as  great,  and  as 
loyal  a  work,  as  though  it  were  just  what  he  believed  it 
to  be.  If  one  of  a  group,  then  they  are,  indeed,  a 
steadfast  and  a  splendid  band  who  lead  humanity, 
having  him  at  their  head. 

The  present  writer's  view  of  the  meaning  of  the 
words,  "It  is  hard  for  thee  to  kick  against  the  pricks," 
is  not  without  support  from  Pauline  scholars.  Ren- 
dall 71  says  of  the  phrase :  * '  This  throws  an  interesting 
light  on  the  state  of  Saul's  mind  before  conversion:  it 
seems  he  was  already  stifling  conscientious  doubts  and 
scruples."  The  same  explanation  is  furnished  by 
Sadler,72  and  by  Campbell,73  who  adds:  "Conscience 
was  at  work  ...  he  was  kicking  against  conviction. ' ' 
Pfleiderer74  declares  plainly  that  the  goad  was  the 
painful  doubt  which  Paul  felt  as  to  this  persecution  of 
the  Christians.  In  "St.  Paul,"  75  by  the  Reverend  J. 
R.  Cohn,  the  writer  thinks  that  a  purely  psychological 
explanation  of  Paul's  change  will  ever  remain  unsatis- 
factory, but  that  the  "goad"76  doubtless  referred  to 
the  influence  of  God  upon  Paul's  pre-converted  mind, 
the  urging  him  forward,  as  it  were,  against  his  will. 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  III  309 

On  the  other  hand,  Meyer77  says,  very  positively: 
"The  conversion  of  Saul  does  not  appear,  on  an  ac- 
curate consideration  of  the  three  narratives,"  which 
agree  in  their  main  points,  to  have  had  "the  way 
psychologically  prepared  for  it  by  scruples  of  con- 
science as  to  his  persecuting  proceedings";  and  this 
startling  assertion  is  capped  by  the  additional  re- 
mark that  in  view  of  Paul's  entirely  pure  character 
such  scruples  are  extremely  improbable ! 

Doubt  of  one's  own  conduct  would  not  seem  to  our 
ethical  ideas,  to  interfere  with  essential  purity  of  mo- 
tive; but  this  view  of  Meyer's  is  shared  by  Wrede,78 
and  substantially  by  Dr.  Lumby,79  the  editor  of  the 
Cambridge  Bible.  The  latter  will  not  allow  the 
"pricks"  to  have  been  those  of  conscience.  Both 
Cloag 80  and  Conybeare  and  Howson,81  interpret  the 
"goad"  expression  as  in  the  nature  of  a  threat  or 
warning,  * t  Take  care,  Paul !  lest  worse  befall  thee ' ' — 
and  so  forth. 

Neither  McGiffert 82  nor  Sabatier 83  in  treating  of 
Paul's  experience,  make  any  especial  reference  to  the 
phrase  in  question.  Neither  does  Harnack,84  although 
he  adds  the  powerful  weight  of  his  assurance  to  the 
trustworthiness  and  authenticity  of  the  entire  narra- 
tive. He  says 85  that  Paul  was  really  blind,  but  gave 
the  incident  a  religious  significance.  Harnack  omits 
any  account  of  the  conversion  proper,  which  is  treated 
fully  by  McGiffert  and  by  Sabatier.  The  former  re- 
marks that  Paul  saw  his  own  conversion  as  a  sudden, 
abrupt,  and  unheralded  event;  which  state,  adds  Dr. 
McGiffert,86  is  psychologically  inconceivable.  That 
this  commentator  should  ignore  the  very  words 


310  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

which  furnish  the  key-note  to  the  riddle,  is  perhaps 
less  surprising  when  we  find  him  observing  "that 
Paul  gives  no  detailed  account  of  his  conversion ! ' ' 

In  very  truth,  the  tendency  of  the  human  intellect 
to  look  for  the  complex,  the  tortuous,  and  the  artificial 
explanation,  in  place  of  the  simple  and  natural  expla- 
nation, of  human  words  or  experiences,  is  nowhere  so 
marked  as  in  Biblical  exegesis.  It  is  to  be  found  on 
all  sides,  among  the  orthodox  and  the  heterodox,  the 
emotionalist  and  the  rationalist.  McGiffert  can  say 
in  face  of  Acts  ix,  xxi,  xxvi,  that  Paul  gave  no 
detailed  account  of  his  conversion;  Cloag  can  say 
that  the  vision  near  Damascus  was  "a  strong  proof 
of  the  divinity  of  Christianity";  from  the  oppo- 
site viewpoint,  Renan  offers  us  an  extraordinarily 
apt  conjunction  of  ophthalmia,  with  a  thunder- 
storm ;  Binet-Sangle  formulates  for  Paul  an  elaborate 
diagnosis  of  epilepsy,  and  Sabatier  actually  doubts 
whether  Paul  ever  took  the  vision  itself  other  than 
symbolically!  With  the  theories  of  the  medical- 
materialist  in  general  we  have  to  do  more  fully  else- 
where,— in  their  extreme  form  they  jump  at  con- 
clusions even  more  wildly  than  do  the  early  Fathers, 
— 'but  an  attitude  of  mind,  such  as  is  shown  by  Saba- 
tier, simply  causes  in  the  reader  a  paralysis  of  won- 
der. That  any  one  could  so  misread  the  character  of 
Paul — essentially  direct,  forceful,  energetic,  and  ob- 
jective— is  even  more  remarkable  than  the  deliberate 
ignoring  of  his  plain,  reiterated  statement:  "Have 
I  not  seen  Jesus  Christ,  our  Lord?"87  This  is  the 
same  influence  which  we  have  seen  at  work  upon  Au- 
gustin,  declaring  that  he  did  not  do  what  he  expressly 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  III  311' 

states  he  did.  To  take  as  symbolism  Paul's  simple 
convincing  narrative  of  what  he  saw  and  felt  and  did, 
is  to  accomplish  a  feat  of  mental  gymnastics  even 
greater  than  would  be  required  to  believe  that  Bacon 
wrote  Shakspere:  it  is  to  make  riddles  where  none 
exist.  There  is  to  Sabatier  an  " obscure  enigma'*  in 
the  whole  of  Paul's  experience,  caused  by  the  slight 
variations  in  the  three  accounts;  but  what  in  truth 
is  more  natural,  more  simple,  more  human  and  con- 
vincing, than  just  such  variations  ? 88  Far  more 
suspicious  would  it  seem  were  these  three  accounts 
found  to  be,  word  for  word,  identical,  when  we  know 
Paul  described  his  experiences  more  than  once,  and  to 
more  than  one  audience.  What  is  more  natural  than 
his  introduction  into  it,  as  an  explanation,  of  the 
ancient  Hebrew  proverb  of  the  ox  and  the  goad,  to 
describe  his  own  bitter  attempt  to  escape  the  perpetual 
challenge  of  his  conscience? 

It  is  natural  that  the  more  striking  mystical  phe- 
nomena of  the  religious  life  should  be  recorded  with 
more  detail  than  is  given  to  the  non-mystical.  For  a 
certain  number  of  persons  the  readjustment  is  grad- 
ual, the  clouds  slowly  disperse.  There  is  another 
group  among  whom  the  actual  moment  of  their  con- 
version is  hardly  to  be  distinguished  from  among  a 
series  of  similar  slight  crises — no  one  especially 
marked  or  noteworthy.  There  are  men  like  Wesley, 
to  whom  the  process  is  fulfilled  in  a  space  of  calm; 
men  like  Calvin,  who  obtain  peace  gradually,  but  after 
a  conflict  "non  sine  gemitu  ac  lacrymis."  The  thun- 
ders of  many  a  sermon  have  served  to  precipitate 


312  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

the  crucial  instant  for  the  attentive  hearer.  The 
stillness  of  meeting  has  brought  it  upon  as  many 
others.  The  glories  of  sunset,  the  pure  emptiness  of 
dawn,  the  rage  of  a  storm  at  sea,  has  each  in  turn  been 
the  scene  of  a  crisis.  Books,  and  not  always  great 
books,  have  had  their  effect.  A  pamphlet  in  a  work- 
ingman's  cottage  called  "The  Plain  Man's  Pathway  to 
Heaven"  eased  the  torment  of  poor  John  Bunyan. 
A  little  volume  called  "The  Flowers  of  the  Saints" 
turned  the  thoughts  of  the  wounded  Loyola  from 
knightly  deeds  to  heaven.  The  influence  of  Law's 
"Serious  Call"  upon  eighteenth  century  England,  is 
incalculable;  it  stands  behind  the  whole  Evangelical 
movement,  and  many  an  one  beside  Thomas  Scott 
found  it  "a  very  uncomfortable  book."  An  emo- 
tional and  creative  imagination,  on  the  other  hand, 
may  be  so  possessed  by  the  spectacle  of  life  itself  as 
to  find  men's  problems  much  more  poignant  than 
men's  creations.  Upon  reading  Tolstoi's  "Confes- 
sions," no  one  can  fail  to  be  struck  with  the  fact 
that  books  meant  comparatively  little  to  him.  Simi- 
larly, in  the  world  of  religious  thoughts,  tremendous  as 
was  the  effect  of  Augustin  and  of  a  Kempis,  of  Law 
and  of  Bunyan,  yet  we  find  religious  movements  and 
religious  bodies  unaffected  as  a  whole  by  any  reading. 
Out  of  the  journals  of  fifty-three  members  of  the 
Society  of  Friends,  not  five  owed  their  conversion,  or 
backsliding,  or  change  of  thought,  to  the  direct  in- 
fluence of  any  book  whatever.  It  was  rather  the 
voice  of  Fox  or  of  Whitefield,  or  the  personal  exhorta- 
tion of  those  "ancient  servants  of  Christ,"  John  Aud- 
land,  Stephen  Crisp,  or  John  Woolman.  Although  in 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  III  313 

the  religious  struggle  it  is  often  a  book  which  first 
turns  the  confessant  to  the  way  of  peace,  yet  we  look 
in  vain  among  the  Quaker  records  for  any  such  ac- 
knowledgment. The  phrases  they  use  are  wholly 
other;  solitude  tells  upon  this  one,  a  friend's  sudden 
illness  or  sudden  death  on  that ; 89  in  the  pregnant 
stillness  of  meeting,  God's  voice  is  heard  to  speak; 
discussion  and  prayer  with  devout  companions  fol- 
low; then,  perhaps  by  means  of  a  "lively  preacher," 
the  heart  is  "broken  and  tendered"  and  the  impres- 
sion completed.  The  circumstance  is  more  noteworthy 
in  regard  to  Friends  than  it  is  with  the  other  bodies 
of  which  it  is  also  characteristic,  since  they  are  the 
nearer  to  our  day,  and  to  the  day  of  print.  More- 
over, they  do  not  lack  literature,  they  have  their 
apologists;  but  Barclay's  "Apology"  seems  to  have 
been  read  after  the  turning-point  oftener  than  before 
it  was  reached.  The  conversion  itself  is  almost  never 
accompanied  by  the  reading  of  any  religious  volume 
save  the  Bible,  and,  curiously  enough,  the  latter  seems 
rather  to  perplex  than  to  calm  the  travailing  spirit 
until  the  full  conversion  is  accomplished.  Some  per- 
sons acknowledge  frankly  that  they  cannot  tell  just 
when  they  were  converted ;  they  know  only  that  they 
have  been.  And  this  brings  us  at  once  to  the  point 
of  questioning  their  belief. 

The  subject  of  reaction  and  relapse,  of  the  dura- 
tion of  the  emotional  process  and  its  final  termi- 
nation, has  received  little  attention  at  the  hands 
of  the  student.  Whatfollows  a/^gr__eonversion_l. 
We  know  what  should  follow  if  the  result  is  all 
that  the  subject  expects — if  it  be  a  veritable  crisisc 


314  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

Peace,  permanent  and  helpful,  new  activities,  the 
world  wearing  a  new  face,  the  life  of  the  spirit 
vigorous  and  benign,  these  are  what  one  should  look 
for.  Perhaps  the  ideal  result  is  well  expressed  by 
Luther,  who  writes  of  his  religious  feeling  very 
simply,  but  very  deeply.  "I,"  he  says,  "out  of  my 
own  experience  am  able  to  witness  that  Jesus  Christ 
is  the  true  God.  I  know  full  well  what  the  name  of 
Jesus  has  done  for  me.  I  have  often  been  so  near 
death  that  I  thought  verily  now  must  I  die — because 
I  taught  His  word  .  .  .  but  always  He  mercifully  put 
life  into  me  and  refreshed  and  comforted  me. ' ' 90 
These  words  are  all  that  the  convert  could  ask  for; 
and  yet  how  few  can,  after  their  "turning-about," 
truly  repeat  them !  If  this  conversion  means  all  that 
the  suffering  subject  expects  from  it, — if  the  misery, 
the  torment,  the  hellish  sights  and  sounds,  the  dread, 
the  sleeplessness,  the  wasting-away,  are  but  his  pay- 
ment for  peace  or  security,  then  the  record  should 
read  of  durable  benefit  and  health. 

The  advocates  of  mysticism  make  much  out  of  the 
tokens  of  ecstasy  and  joy  belonging  to  that  state ;  and 
never  tire  of  quoting  the  raptures  of  the  saint.  If  we 
would  be  fair,  we  must  not  ignore  them.  The  real 
beauty  of  Jonathan  Edwards 's  exaltation;  Suso's 
"flame  of  fire  which  made  his  heart  all  burning  with 
intense  love";  the  "inexpressible  ravishment  of 
Henry  Alline";  the  "merry  heat  and  unknown"  of 
Bolle,  and  his  prayer  turning  into  music ;  Salimbene  's 
and  David  Nitschman's  sense  of  great  sweetness — all 
these  feelings  are  very  real,  and  in  true  contrast  with 
the  pre-converted  state  of  gloom  and  sin.91 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  III  315 

Another  type  of  joy  is  furnished  by  such  cases  of 
misinterpreted  observation  as  Robert  Blair's  "joy 
that  was  unspeakable  and  glorious"  after  partaking 
of  the  milk-posset.  Nor  is  modern  science  willing  to 
accept  as  due  to  spiritual  causes  that  outbreak  of 
sexual  feeling  among  the  cloistered  women  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  which  led  so  often  to  their  speaking  of 
their  Lord  in  the  most  extraordinary  terms.  Christ's 
"familiar  interviews"  with  Marie  de  1'Incarnation, 
his  "incredible  intimacy"  with  Gertrude  of  Eisleben; 
his  various  "espousals"  with  Teresa,  Mary  of  the 
Angels,  Maria  d'Agreda,  Angela  da  Foligno,  Mary 
of  the  Divine  Heart,  Antoinette  Bourignon — are  not 
nowadays  to  be  attributed  to  mere  symbolistic  ex- 
travagances of  phrase.  In  the  cases  of  A.  C.  Em- 
merich, "qui  osa  lutter  avec  Dieu,"  writes  her  nai'f 
director,  * '  dans  un  langage  dont  la  sainte  et  amoureuse 
folie  aurait  pu  blesser  les  oreilles  profanes";  or  Bap- 
tista  Vernazza,  who  longed  "to  devour  God";  or 
Antoinette  Bourignon,  who  felt  that  her  soul  had  be- 
come entirely  a  part  of  the  Divine;  the  sexual  idea 
has  assumed  a  character  of  such  excessive  egotism  as 
to  become  wholly  unbalanced.  Knowing  what  we 
know,  can  a  mystical  advocate  confidently  uphold  to- 
day, as  advisable  or  praiseworthy,  such  raptures  as 
these  ? 

But  of  course  it  is  never  the  mystic  who  doubts 
his  own  extreme  favor  with  the  higher  powers ; 92  and 
it  is  not  for  the  converted  to  doubt  the  fact  of  the 
conversion.  Yet  Augustin  himself  wrote  "that  the 
love  of  God  is  acquired  by  knowledge  of  the  senses, 
and  by  the  exercise  of  reason. ' '  Jonathan  Edwards,93 


316  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

with  all  his  credulity,  expressed  the  same  doubt. 
" There  have,  indeed,"  he  writes,  "been  some  few 
instances  of  impressions  on  persons'  imaginations  that 
have  been  something  mysterious  to  me  ...  for, 
though  it  has  been  exceeding  evident  .  .  .  that  they 
had  indeed  a  great  sense  of  the  spiritual  excellency 
of  divine  things,  yet  I  have  not  been  able  to  satisfy 
myself  whether  these  imaginary  ideas  have  been  more 
than  could  naturally  arise  from  their  spiritual  sense 
of  things. " 

Certain  cases  record  this  phase  of  feeling.  James 
Fraser  of  Brae  observes  that  he  was  constantly  ex- 
pecting more  extraordinary  effects  and  influences  from 
his  conversion  than  actually  happened  to  him.  James 
Lackington  comments  on  his  several  conversions  in  the 
words:  "Nothing  is  more  common  than  to  see  man- 
kind run  from  one  extreme  to  the  other,  which  was 
my  case."  The  saintly  John  Livingstone  does  not 
remember  that  he  had  any  especial  moment  of  con- 
version, "or  that  I  was  much  cast  down  or  lift  up." 
It  is  interesting  that  his  worst  attack  of  terror  at  the 
wrath  of  God  should  be  in  his  sleep,  and  that,  though 
it  seemed  unbearable,  he  did  not  awaken:  "I  sleeped 
'til  the  morning."  The  soul  of  Thomas  Mitchell,  he 
writes,  was  "simply  set  at  liberty."  Thomas  Ruther- 
ford says  that  the  divine  power  which  moved  him  had 
about  it  "nothing  terrible  or  alarming  .  .  .  but  .  .  . 
at  once  solemnized,  composed  and  elevated  the  fac- 
ulties of  my  soul."  There  are  a  number  of  persons 
among  the  Friends,  who,  after  a  struggle,  simply 
observe  that  they  became  "settled  in  the  power  of  the 
Lord."94  Unquestionably,  Martin  Luther  was  also 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  III  317 

thus  ''settled";  he  laid  claim  to  no  revelations,  but 
once  certain  of  his  path,  pursued  it,  putting  the 
whole  weight  of  his  robust  and  powerful  personality 
against  existing  abuse.  He  is  careful  to  the  very 
end  to  say  that  he  was  "not  an  heretic  but  a  schis- 
matic." 'John  Wesley  cannot  note  any  actual  mo- 
ment of  victory.  "His  heart  is  warmed"  during  a 
certain  prayer-meeting,  and  the  crisis  seems  over.  It 
took  David  Marks  eighteen  months  to  be  sure  of  con- 
version; Bishop  Ashbel  Green  is  doubtful  whether 
his  own  sanctification  was  ever  complete.  E.  N.  Kirk 
remarks  that  the  phenomena  attending  his  crisis  in- 
cluded a  light  which,  he  thinks,  superstition  would 
have  made  more  of  than  he  does.  John  Angell  James 
had  "no  pungent  conviction  ...  no  great  and  rapid 
transitions  of  feeling."  The  "saving  change"  which 
overtook  Samuel  Hopkins  he  was  long  in  recognizing 
as  conversion ;  yet  finally  concludes  it  must  have  been. 
B.  Hibbard  doubts  if  the  experience  through  which 
he  passed  really  was  conversion ;  and  so  does  William 
Capers.  It  was  during  an  illness  that  Christian 
David  became  convinced  his  sins  were  forgiven,  but 
he  does  not  know  any  more  than  just  the  fact.  In 
the  same  manner  Count  Schouvaloff  changes  his  faith ; 
and  Samuel  Neale,  a  Quaker,  believes  firmly  in  a 
gradual  process  of  conversion. 

These  instances  are  sufficient  to  show  that  in  many 
cases  the  security  attained  by  conversion  is  but  a 
relative  term.  Spiritual,  like  worldly,  crises  may 
diffuse  themselves  over  a  long  period  of  time,  so  that 
only  upon  looking  back  can  one  estimate  the  distance 
he  has  travelled. 


318  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

From  the  confessants'  own  accounts  many  of  the 
reactions  following  conversion  are  as  violent  as 
though  no  conversion  had  ever  taken  place.  To  re- 
peat here  the  names  of  all  who  fall  back  into  despair, 
after  they  believe  their  peace  and  pardon  have  been 
won,  would  be  to  reprint  practically  the  entire  case- 
list — so  universal  is  the  experience.  Jacob  Knapp, 
the  Baptist  preacher,  insisted  for  this  reason  on  fre- 
quent re-conversion.  Full  examination  into  this  ques- 
tion of  relapse  tends  to  throw  a  new  light  upon  the 
whole  subjectT 

In  the  first  place,  it  will  be  noticed  that  among 
most  of  the  earlier  mystics,  conversion  is  rather  the 
starting-point  of  their  agony  than  its  culmination. 
"With  Teresa,  Suso,  Kulman  Merswin,  Angela  da 
Foligno,  Jeanne  de  St.  Mathieu  Deleloe,  Mesdames 
Guyon  and  Chantal,  Mary  of  the  Divine  Heart,  An- 
toinette Bourignon,  Ubertino  da  Casale,  Jerome — 
the  progress  is  steady,  after  their  conversion,  toward 
periods  of  darkness,  horror,  and  despair.  Some  of 
these  examples  (or  at  least  so  many  of  them  as  are 
cloistered,  or  recluse)  seem  in  their  proper  persons 
to  bear  out  that  penetrating  observation  of  Luther 
that  "The  human  heart  is  like  a  mill-stone  in  a  mill, 
when  you  put  wheat  under  it,  it  turns  and  grinds 
and  bruises  the  wheat  to  flour;  if  you  put  no  wheat, 
it  still  grinds  on,  but  then  'tis  itself  it  grinds  and 
wears  away ! " 95 

It  is  after  she  received  the  "coup  de  la  Grace" 
that  the  young  abbess  Angelique  Arnauld  was  plunged 
into  terror.  ' '  How  many  woes, ' '  cries  Bishop  Anselm 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  III  319 

in  his  "Oratio  Meditativo,"  "and  woes  on  the  heel  of 
woes !  .  .  .  Shudder,  oh,  my  soul,  and  faint,  my  mind, 
and  break,  my  heart!  Whither  dost  thou  thrust  me, 
oh,  my  sin,  whither  dost  thou  drive  me,  oh,  my  God?" 
J.  J.  Olier,  during  the  latter  part  of  his  life,  had  a 
dark  period  of  shame  and  depression,  quite  as  though 
conversion  were  not.  John  Newton  passed  from  "an 
awfully  mad  career"  into  exaggerated  asceticism,  not 
once  but  many  times.  Carlo  da  Sezze,  long  after 
his  saintly  convictions  had  received  assurance  from 
on  high,  had  violent  reactions.  One  attack  of  mel- 
ancholy and  doubt  lasted  for  months.  Many  such 
dark  times  fell  upon  Marie  de  1'Incarnation.  Bap- 
tiste  Varani  had  demoniac  temptations  producing 
black  horrors  of  despair  for  as  long  as  two  years  on  a 
stretch;  and  Jeanne  de  St.  M.  Deleloe  for  more  than 
a  year.  Abbot  Othloh  has  many  relapses.  On  the 
other  hand,  M.  M.  Alacoque,  like  A.  C.  Emmerich, 
has  no  reactions,  no  doubts;  her  assurance  is  so  com- 
plete that  it  gives  the  effect  of  complacency,  and,  in- 
deed, her  attitude  toward  her  Lord  is  that  of  chief 
sultana. 

Later  instances  of  reaction  are  as  striking.  James 
Fraser  of  Brae  has  one  very  black  relapse,  during 
which  he  almost  doubts  God's  existence.  Thomas 
Haliburton's  revulsion  of  feeling  brings  him  very 
low.  The  clouds  which  hang  over  the  spirits  of  Fox 
and  Bunyan  are  thick,  indeed,  and  last  longer  than 
do  the  bursts  of  sunshine.  Joseph  Hoag  observes 
that  he  was  all  his  life  subject  to  frightful  reaction 
and  depression.  James  Lackington's  and  Lomenie  de 
Brienne's  relapses  followed  regularly  upon  their  con- 


320  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

versions.  Thomas  Boston  has  as  many  relapses  as 
moments  of  peace.  M.  A.  Schimmelpenninck,  in  a 
violent  relapse,  shrank  from  all  religious  thoughts 
and  ideas,  both  with  distaste  and  from  exhaustion. 
'Job  Scott  underwent  many  "discouragements  and 
heavy  exercises."  E.  Stirredge  remained  a  deeply 
sorrowful  woman,  who  never  seems  to  have  felt  any 
happiness  from  her  conversion.  J.  Blanco  White  is 
another  person  whose  peace  is  but  brief,  whose  de- 
jection is  constant;  so  also  is  Isaac  Williams,  the 
friend  of  Newman  and  Keble.  John  Haime  and  John 
Nelson  backslide  into  frightful,  maniacal  periods  of 
gloom  and  horror.  In  fact,  nearly  all  of  the  early 
Methodist  cases  have  reactions  of  peculiar  violence. 
Therese  of  the  Holy  Child,  although  even  her  di- 
rector termed  her  sinless,  experienced  dreadful  aridity 
and  gloom  after  taking  the  veil,  until  her  early  death. 
Charles  Marshall  experienced  violent  reactions  and 
struggles  with  the  enemy.  Peter  Favre  notes  heavy 
relapses  and  was  much  afflicted,  until  "divers  pious 
motions"  revived  him.  John  Trevor,  like  Uriel 
d'Acosta,  constantly  turns  hither  and  yon,  eager  to 
obtain  the  peace  which  his  conversion  did  not  bring. 
Jerry  McAuley  experienced  several  conversions  with 
relapses  between.  David  Nitschman's  recurrences  of 
doubt  were  cured  only  by  his  delivering  himself 
"formally,"  as  he  put  it,  into  God's  hands,  whence 
he  knew  peace.  Much  the  same  experience  befell 
Samuel  Neale.  Dame  Gertrude  More's  relapse  was 
far  harder  for  her  to  bear  than  her  pre-converted 
ignorance  had  been,  and  Hildegarde  of  Bingen  writes 
poignantly  of  the  shadows  in  her  saintly  life.  Uber- 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  III  321 

tino  da  Casale  (who  identified  himself  so  closely 
with  the  Holy  Family,  that  he  writes  he  dined  with 
them  every  Wednesday,  and  spent  the  night!)  yet 
backslides  dreadfully  during  a  visit  to  Paris,  and 
is  only  recalled  to  Grace  by  the  influence  of  Angela 
da  Foligno.  Joseph  Salmon,  the  Ranter,  thinks  that 
the  Lord  purposely  sent  Satan  to  assault  and  test  him 
after  his  conversion-vision  of  heaven.  Hudson-Tay- 
lor experienced  painful  deadness  of  soul,  after 
obtaining  his  first  assurance  of  salvation.  Black 
reactions  troubled  Gardiner  Spring;  while  George 
Brysson  was  often  worried  by  the  enemy.  A  greater 
man  than  all,  Jerome,  describes  his  desert  sufferings 
as  a  series  of  perpetual  relapses  into  sin,  and  re- 
conquerings  of  grace.  To  John  Croker  (Friend)  re- 
action came  like  "a  cloud  of  thick  darkness";  and 
Joseph  Pike  was  "plunged  in  inexpressible  sorrow 
by  the  Lord's  withdrawal"  after  his  first  conversion. 
Joseph  Smith's  reaction  took  the  form  of  drunken- 
ness and  other  vices ;  which  did  not  prevent  his  having 
a  second  dazzling  white  vision  of  a  personage,  ' '  whose 
visage,"  he  writes,  "was  truly  like  lightning";  and 
from  whom  he  received  the  revelation  of  the  Sacred 
Books,  the  breast-plate,  etc.  His  vices  of  sensuality, 
his  coarseness,  and  his  egotism,  follow  him  to  the  end 
of  his  life ;  yet  never  shook  the  faith  of  his  followers. 
Another  form  in  the  development  of  this  emotion 
after  conversion  is  shown  by  that  group  who  became 
"covenanters  with  God."  Their  reaction-periods  are 
dissolved  by  this  practice,  by  which  the  needed  sug- 
gestion may  be  repeated  as  often  as  necessary. 
Thomas  Boston  makes  his  first  "solemn  covenant"  un- 


322  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

der  a  tree  in  the  orchard,  but  on  his  ordination  he 
draws  up  a  regular  instrument  in  which  he  terms 
himself  "an  heir  of  hell  and  wrath, "  to  which  he 
signs  his  name.  Similarly,  Thomas  Haliburton  makes 
a  covenant  at  eighteen,  which  tranquillizes  him  for  the 
time;  he  repeats  it  after  a  period  of  scientific  doubt 
and  wretchedness;  but  the  peace  which  it  procures 
him  is  not  final.  Luther  Rice  underwent  a  falling- 
back  so  intense  that  he  felt  as  if  he  were  descending 
into  hell.  This  frightened  him  with  the  fear  of 
losing  his  mind,  so  he  signed  his  name  to  a  blank 
sheet  of  paper,  that  God  might  fill  it  up  with  his 
destiny.  The  submission  of  this  act  brought  happi- 
ness and  peace.  An  attack  of  smallpox  caused  Samuel 
Neale  to  enter  into  a  covenant  of  this  kind,  and,  that 
he  broke  it,  caused  him  great  agony  of  mind  a  few 
years  later.  A  chance  sermon  impressed  Joanna 
Turner  with  the  idea  that  Christ  had  died  for  her 
and  was  her  Saviour;  so  she  made  a  covenant  with 
him,  and  signed  it.  Though  this  idea  quieted  her, 
it  was  only  for  a  time.  William  Wilson  during  his 
conflict  makes  several  different  covenants  with  God. 
A  covenant  with  God,  which  is  frequently  renewed, 
is  the  means  taken  by  Dr.  Theophilus  Lobb,  to  preserve 
himself  from  the  assaults  of  some  "horrid  and 
violent  temptations, "  the  nature  of  which,  however, 
he  does  not  tell  us.  Joseph  Lathrop,  on  ordination, 
solemnly  covenants  with  and  dedicates  himself  to 
God.  Sometimes  these  instruments  are  in  the  nature 
of  regular  contracts,  in  which  Christ  is  the  party  of 
the  second  part.  We  find  this  in  the  case  of  George 
Bewly,  who,  after  an  illness  during  which  the  tempter 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  III  323 

fearfully  attacked  him,  "covenanted  with  God  for  a 
return  of  health, ' '  and  was  tranquillized  by  this  idea. 
This  last  name  is  that  of  a  Friend — the  only  one  in 
this  group,  for  the  more  subjective  character  of  the 
Quaker  religious  tenets  made  these  objective  methods 
distasteful  to  them  on  the  whole.  They  frequently 
dedicate  their  lives  and  thoughts  to  Heaven,  but  they 
do  not  usually  sign  covenants  any  more  than  they 
would  take  oaths.  It  is  scarcely  fair  to  include 
among  these  examples  of  ' '  covenanters  with  God ' '  that 
of  John  B.  Gough,  whose  act  of  signing  the  total 
abstinence  pledge  caused  him  to  break  off  the  habit 
of  drink,  but  his  is  an  interesting  case.  The  effect  of 
a  contract  on  these  minds  is  steady  and  helpful.  In 
Gough 's  case,  it  aided  him  to  break  the  evil  habit; 
and,  despite  relapses,  had  the  beneficial  result  of  show- 
ing him  that  it  could  be  broken;  in  the  other  cases  it 
seems  to  clarify  their  relations  with  the  Deity  and  to 
make  their  new  life  more  definite.  Neither  the  cove- 
nant nor  its  formal  delivery  has  ever  prevented  the 
reaction. 

In  the  light  of  these  after  conditions,  undoubtedly 
the  significance  of  conversion  becomes  minimized. 
Its  exterior  effect  cannot  be  denied: — a  man  turns 
Christian  and  becomes  Bishop  of  Hippo ; 96  or  be- 
comes a  Friend97  and  preaches  Quakerism;  or  from 
a  quiet  Church  of  England  vicar,98  sets  forth  as  a 
travelling  evangelist.  But  the  progress  of  the  emo- 
tion in  his  soul  is  not  greatly  different  in  respect 
of  ebb  and  flow,  of  action  and  reaction.  Growing 
older,  the  subject's  feeling  upon  all  matters  must  be- 
come less  keen;  his  life  will  run  in  a  more  regular 


324  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

groove.  Yet  neither  the  elderly  nor  the  secure,  nor  the 
successful  person,  can  always  look  forward  to  tranquil- 
lity of  religious  feeling,  without  oscillation.  There 
are  cases  in  which  Satan  appears  to  triumph  at  the 
very  deathbed  of  the  converted.  J.  H.  Linsley  un- 
derwent thick  spiritual  darkness  at  his  life's  end. 
The  Devil  sorely  tempted  John  Prickard  at  the  last. 
Upon  J.  J.  Olier  falls  such  a  period  of  gloom  and 
misery,  as  also  on  the  saintly  nuns  Marie  de  1'Incar- 
nation  and  Baptiste  Yarani.  During  her  last  illness 
Catherine  of  Siena  is  seized  by  the  Devil ;  and  writes : 
"I  circled  around  the  chapel  like  a  person  in  spasms." 
Margaret  Lucas  and  C.  Marshall,  both  Friends,  are 
deeply  wretched  and  anxious  just  before  death. 

On  the  other  hand,  M.  M.  Alacoque  never  seems  to 
have  felt  a  reaction.  Swedenborg  grew  wonderfully 
calm  after  several  frenzied  conversion-crises.  The 
change  in  John  Newton  was  absolute;  he  felt  no 
temptations  thereafter.  M.  de  Marsay  grew  serene; 
the  hysterical  Pere  Surin  recovered  his  balance  and 
died  in  peace.  G-.  Miiller  is  so  very  sure  of  grace 
that  he  hardly  left  off  sinning  himself  ere  he  started 
to  teach  others  the  true  way.  Thomas  Lee,  Sampson 
Staniforth,  and  Thomas  Olivers  remain  quiet  and 
happy.  So  does  Alexander  Mather,  once  he  leaves 
off  baking  on  a  Sunday.  A  permanent  peace  comes 
to  George  Story ;  no  doubtful  seasons  trouble  Thomas 
Kutherford;  and  Thomas  Tennant  remains  tranquil. 
Gentle  Charles  Wesley  lived  in  peace  and  fervor  and 
died  without  excitement  or  anxiety. 

The  constitution  of  the  nebula — to  return  for  an 


THE  DATA  ANALYZED:  III  325 

instant  to  our  earlier  metaphor — remains  the  princi- 
pal factor  in  the  termination  of  the  religious  process. 
Its  elements  may  have  been  so  much  disturbed  that 
they  never  wholly  coalesce  again.  Or  they  may  find, 
by  rearrangement  and  readjustment,  new  and  perma- 
nent stability.  The  rise  and  development  of  emo- 
tional religious  experience  as  a  process,  is  surely  in- 
dicated in  either  outcome. 

Somewhat  has  our  investigation  been  hampered  by 
the  purpose  underlying  most  of  these  documents. 
Since  they  are  intended  to  depict  only  one  stage  in 
the  life  of  the  writer,  they  are  apt  to  come  to  an  end 
after  conversion,  changing  merely  into  journals  of 
work.  The  Quaker  records  practically  all  terminate 
at  the  point  when  the  writers  decide  to  become 
preachers  of  that  faith.  Wesley  asked  of  the  Meth- 
odists that  they  conduct  their  narratives  to  the  mo- 
ment of  their  joining  the  Society.  Only  from  those 
rare  and  scattered  eases,  where  the  autobiographical 
intention  causes  the  writer  to  trace  for  us  the  whole 
progress  of  his  experience,  are  we  able  to  obtain 
glimpses  of  its  final  manifestations. 

To  many  persons  the  need  for  telling  all  these 
things,  ceases  the  very  moment  they  can  point  to  au- 
thority accepted,  a  standard  unfurled.  Converts 
like  Paul,  like  Newman;  or  in  lesser  instances,  like 
Thomas  W.  Allies,  Alphonse  de  Ratisbonne,  Paul 
Lowengard,  have  no  interior  history  once  they  have 
parti  pris.  They  are  content  to  become  part  of  a  sys- 
tem and  to  be  absorbed,  like  single  drops,  into  an 
ocean  of  similar  histories.  Therefore  they  tell  less  of 
their  gloom  and  reaction,  their  doubt  and  despair. 


326  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

since  these  appear  to  them  no  longer  so  important. 
Their  narratives  cease  on  that  moment  when  they  see, 
as  it  were,  the  New  Jerusalem  secure  within  their 
grasp;  and  we  are  not  always  able  to  learn  whether 
that  glory  remains  attainable  till  the  end,  or  whether, 
like  the  mirage,  it  vanishes,  leaving  them  once  more 
alone  in  the  desert  of  despair. 


VIII 

MYSTICISM  AND  ITS  INTERPRETATION 


I.  Introductory. 
II.  Theories  and  theorists. 

III.  Mysticism,  genius,  and  egotism, 

IV.  "Divine  union." 
V.  Phenomena. 

VI.  Documents  and  data. 
VII.  Revelations. 
VIII.  Analysis  of  the  data. 
IX.  Problems  of  interpretation. 
X.  Job  and  Paul. 
XL  Medical-materialist  reasoning. 
XII.  Mysticism  as  a  process. 


VIII 

MYSTICISM   AND   ITS   INTERPRETATION 

BUT  what  of  those  who  believe  that  they  have  passed 
the  gates,  who,  for  one  ineffable  moment, — if  for 
one  only — have  become  inmates  of  that  heavenly  city  f 
The  situation  in  which  they  find  themselves  is  one 
of  the  most  complex  in  human  experience,  and 
presents  one  of  the  oldest  and  the  least  understood  of 
all  human  problems.  Mysticism  as  a  subject  is  full 
of  difficulties,  and  difficulties  relate  to  its  every  part, 
—to  the  documents,  to  the  data,  and  to  the  theories 
which  obtain  in  regard  to  both  of  these.  Around  the 
figures  of  those  men  and  women,  who,  in  Dante's 
phrase,  "approached  the  end  of  all  desires/'1  there 
has  grown  up  a  confusing  and  obscuring  cloud  of 
conjecture,  which  to  the  Middle  Ages  took  the  place 
of  poetry.  "Every  one  of  these  saints, "  writes  Mil- 
man,  "had  his  life  of  wonder  .  .  .  the  legend  of  his 
virtues  ...  to  his  votaries  a  sort  of  secondary  gospel 
wrought  into  belief  by  the  constant  iteration  of  names 
and  events.  "2 

Such  legendary  narrative  often  usurped  the  place 
of  folk-  or  fairy-tale ;  it  fed  the  fancy  of  a  world  which 
had  lost  the  dryad  and  the  dragon,  from  which  the 
centaur  and  the  winged  horse  had  fled.  Miracle  and 

329 


330  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

marvel,  the  essential  food  of  human  imagination,  thus 
took  on  a  new  form  and  became  associated  with  the 
rapid  growth  of  individualism.  It  is  this  which  the 
colder  mind  of  to-day,  seeking  for  explanations,  must 
not  forget — that  here  in  the  lives  and  legends  of  the 
earlier  mystics  fancy  and  religion  interplay,  as  in 
the  imagination  of  a  child,  and  that  of  such,  in  sober- 
est truth,  is  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

So  long  as  mankind  accepted  the  saint  without 
question, — or  at  least  set  him  aside  in  a  separate 
mental  compartment,  water-tight  from  any  scientific 
criticism  or  investigation, — then  his  religion,  "self- 
wrought-out,  self -disciplined,  self -matured,  with  noth- 
ing necessarily  intermediate  between  the  grace  of 
God  and  the  soul  of  man, '  * 8  seemed  both  natural  and 
adequate.  It  was  as  much  and  as  fitting  a  part  of  his 
legendary  equipment  as  the  fairy's  wings,  or  the 
magician's  wand.  Only  when  he  came  to  be  consid- 
ered in  the  light  of  a  real  man,  when  this  delicate  and 
decorative  figure,  glowing  as  with  all  the  lovely  hues 
of  Italian  painting,  was  lifted  down  from  his  carved 
and  gilded  triptych  to  be  set  beside  other  men,  did 
the  ideas  he  stood  for  seem  also  to  be  part  of 
legend.  Examined  nearly,  they  had  the  thinness  of 
legend,  and  the  color  of  legend,  and  the  vagueness 
of  legend.  With  infinite  sadness  and  care,  it  has  been 
the  task  of  science  to  unwrap  these  glittering,  cloudy 
tissues  of  poetry  and  myth,  to  lay  bare  the  hearts 
and  bodies  of  men  and  women  like  ourselves.  Where 
the  mystic  stood  in  ecstasy,  crying  out  that  he  saw 
heights  and  depths  vouchsafed  to  no  other  eyes,  sci- 
ence is  now  at  hand  to  chill  him  with  a  generalization. 


MYSTICISM:  ITS  INTERPRETATION       331 

It  is  forced  to  remind  him  of  the  truth  *'that  every 
emotion  attracts  those  ideas  and  images  which  nour- 
ish it,  and  repels  those  which  do  not";  ^  and  that  all 
emotion  tends  rather  to  obscurity  than  to  clearness  of 
mental  vision.  While  at  the  same  time,  it  has  turned 
to  ask  of  this  human  being,  called  mystic,  certain 
definite,  vital,  and  far-reaching  questions. 

Science  enquires,  for  instance,  What  manner  of  man 
is  this,  who  claims  to  stand  at  the  gates  of  the  un- 
known? What  warrant  does  he  give  for  the  cer- 
tainty of  his  dream?  For  this  sureness,  this  cer- 
tainty, is  the  mystic's  predominant  characteristic; 
however  timid  before,  once  his  feet  are  on  the  mystical 
way,  his  confidence  in  himself  becomes  absolute.  The 
manifestations  of  grace  in  his  case  may  take  forms 
wholly  new,  but  that  it  is  grace,  he  is  entirely  sure. 
He  knows  that  for  him,  individually,  the  secret  places 
have  been  opened;  to  him,  individually,  the  hidden 
truths  have  been  revealed. 

"O  world  invisible,"  he  sings,  "we  view  thee, 
O  world  intangible,  we  touch  thee, 
O  world  unknowable,  we  know  thee, 
Inapprehensible,  we  clutch  thee!  "6 

It  is  chiefly  this  certitude  of  the  mystic  that 
has  caused  the  attention  of  science  to  be  directed 
upon  him.  Science  is  necessarily  doubtful  of  all  cer- 
tainty and  suspicious  of  the  certain.  But  the  mystic's 
conviction,  his  fixity  of  gaze,  his  unwavering  accept- 
ance of  his  own  position  toward  the  unknown,  has 
served  to  overawe  the  world  for  centuries,  and  in 
itself  has  caused  the  whole  subject  to  be  placed  be- 
yond the  sphere  of  criticism.  Is  it  still  so  placed? 


332  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

What,  in  fact,  is  our  attitude  toward  the  saint  to- 
day ?  A  survey  of  his  position  is  proper  at  the  outset 
of  this  enquiry. 

The  mystic  is  most  often  the  religious  confessant, 
and  it  is  moreover  upon  the  religious  confession  that 
our  knowledge  of  mysticism  as  a  state  practically 
rests.  A  survey  of  the  whole  field  of  records  would 
seem,  therefore,  to  be  prerequisite  to  any  compre- 
hension of  the  subject.  Yet  up  to  the  present  time 
such  a  survey  has  not  been  attempted ;  and  the  means 
of  studying  mysticism,  from  whatever  standpoint,  has 
been  from  quintessential  types  alone.  It  does  not 
need  the  student  familiar  with  modern  methods  of 
comparative  study  to  see  the  difficulties  to  which  the 
older  plan  gives  rise.  Chief  among  them  is  the  neces- 
sarily theoretical  and  a  priori  attitude,  taken  by  a 
writer  whenever  he  cannot  work  from  the  facts. 

Books  written  according  to  this  method  are  by  no 
means  old  books,  for  all  important  work  on  the  sub- 
ject is  recent.  Much  of  it,  indeed,  is  so  recent,  that  it 
escapes  the  austere  limitations  laid  upon  such  in- 
vestigation by  the  scientific  tendencies  of  the  nine- 
teenth century,  and  partakes  of  the  reactionary,  emo- 
tional influences  of  the  twentieth.  These  influences 
are  to  be  observed  permeating  a  work  so  well  known  as 
Professor  James's  widely  read  "  Varieties  of  Religious 
Experience,"  as  well  as  the  books  following  it.6  Prac- 
tically all  of  these  studies  have  their  foundation 
in  Gorres's  "La  Mystique  Divine,  Naturelle  et  Dia- 
bolique ' ' ;  which,  though  sprung  from  a  devout  mind> 
yet  shows  by  its  care  and  method  the  influences  of 
the  earlier  scientific  tendency. 


MYSTICISM:  ITS  INTERPRETATION       333 

A  glance  at  some  of  the  theories  contained  in  these 
works  is  essential  to  our  purpose  (which,  the  reader 
has  not  forgotten,  is  a  study  of  the  facts),  because  the 
ideas  they  propagate  are  widely  disseminated,  and  are 
frequently  accepted  and  quoted  without  any  reference 
to  these  same  inconvenient  facts,  or  to  the  assertions 
of  the  mystics  themselves.  The  volumes  to  which  we 
allude  do  not  by  any  means  confine  themselves  to  per- 
sonal statements  of  the  mystics,  nor  to  their  personal 
phenomena;  and  it  must  be  clearly  understood  that 
into  their  writers'  more  general  and  abstract  theories, 
this  work  cannot  follow  them.  The  relation  of  mys- 
ticism to  self -study,  with  the  personal  revelations  of 
the  mystic,  are  our  sole  concern  at  present;  our 
appeal  must  needs  be  in,  through,  and  by  the  facts 
themselves.  Practically  all  works  on  theoretical  mys- 
ticism display  a  tendency  on  the  part  of  their  authors 
to  turn  in  thought  from  the  simple  to  the  complex, 
from  the  concrete  to  the  abstract,  from  the  physical 
to  the  metaphysical.  Such  manner  they  appear  to 
take  for  granted;  to  wrench,  as  it  were,  the  natural 
point  of  view  violently  over  to  the  side  of  the  philo- 
sophical abstraction,  and  to  expect  their  reader  to  do 
the  same.  It  is  extraordinary,  that  no  one  seems 
able  to  handle  this  topic,  and  yet  remain  intelligible. 
The  approach  of  this  angel  is  enough  to  trouble  the 
waters  of  many  '  *  a  well  of  English  undefiled. ' '  When 
it  even  affects  Emerson,  one  will  surely  feel  less  anger 
than  pity  for  the  verbal  contortions  of  the  Baron  von 
Hiigel.  Even  so  graceful  a  writer  as  Mr.  Edmund 
Gardner7  defines  mysticism  as  "the  love-illumined 
quest  of  the  soul  to  unite  herself  ( ! )  with  the  supra- 


334  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

sensible — with  the  absolute — with  that  which  is"! — 
speaks  of  "seeing  Eternity, "  and  uses,  as  final,  the 
citation,  "the  flight  of  the  alone  to  the  Alone"! 8 

Now,  it  is  never  easy  to  force  one's  self  into  an 
abstract  view  of  matters  which,  after  all,  are  mostly 
concrete.  Nor  is  the  difficulty  eased  in  regard  to  such 
specimens  of  logic  as  Miss  Underbill's  reference  to 
the  fasting  of  Catherine  of  Genoa9  (of  which  more 
anon) ;  or  that  of  von  Hiigel,  who,  while  he  writes  in 
English,  yet  never  ceases  to  think  in  German.  The 
mists  close  thick  about  the  student,  helplessly  befogged 
in  a  land,  where,  after  all,  he  should  be  able  to  take 
hold  of  particular  statements,  and  acts,  and  events. 
For  there  is  no  necessary  obscurity  in  the  study  of  a 
person's  withdrawal  "from  the  outward  to  the  inner 
world,  from  God  in  the  works  of  nature  to  God  in 
his  workings  on  the  soul  of  man. " 10  It  is  not  a 
question  of  the  matter  of  men's  speculation  and  the 
method  of  men's  thought,  but  simply  of  what  certain 
persons  have  felt  and  stated,  have  said  and  done. 
There  is  evidence  to  summon,  to  sift,  and  to  classify ; 
all  we  have  known  or  can  know  about  the  subject  lies 
in  this  evidence.  The  validity  of  such  evidence  is, 
therefore,  the  starting-point  of  the  whole  investiga- 
tion; not  the  transcendental  theories  which  have 
been  used  to  shroud  and  becloud  the  subject.  What 
care  we  whether  sanctification  precedes  unification  or 
follows  it,  until  we  know  on  what  actual  occurrences 
these  terms  are  founded?  How  can  we  define  the 
"awareness  of  a  relation  with  God"  u  unless  we  know 
the  mystic's  reason  for  believing  that  he  is  conscious 
of  such  a  relation?  How  do  we  know  that  such  and 


MYSTICISM:  ITS  INTERPRETATION       335 

such  a  saint  experienced  such  and  such  feelings,  until 
we  have  examined  his  own  statements?  Mysticism 
may  be  cleared  of  vagueness  if  one  wishes,  but  only  by 
reducing  it  to  the  simplest  comprehensible  terms. 

What  we  do  know  is  that,  for  centuries  past,  per- 
sons have  lived,  called  mystics  by  reason  of  their 
supposed  hold  on  hidden  things;  who  have  laid 
claim  to  special  truths  vouchsafed  to  them,  indi- 
vidually, and  in  a  particular  manner.  The  exist- 
ence of  these  persons  and  of  this  assumption  on  their 
part  is,  strictly  speaking,  all  that  we  really  know, 
outside  of  what  they  themselves  have  communicated 
in  writing  or  to  their  disciples.  The  manner  in  which 
truth  is  communicated  to  these  subjects  has  been  de- 
scribed, both  by  themselves  and  others,  as  entirely 
outside,  and  independent  of,  the  normal,  natural 
manner  of  its  communication — and  it  is,  therefore, 
properly  designated  as  abnormal  or  as  supernatural, 
and  has  been  so  called  by  the  world  at  large. 

The  student  to-day  is  surely  entitled  to  ask  further 
questions,  before  he  can  accept  these  assumptions. 
What  sort  of  persons  are  these?  What  sort  of  truth 
has  been  so  revealed  to  them?  WTiat  is  the  evidence 
that  they  have  been  so  distinguished,  and  in  what 
ways  do  they  differ  from  himself? 

Any  creed  claiming  a  mystical  foundation  must 
base  itself  on  the  assumption  that  the  founder  thereof, 
be  he  Paul  or  Mahomet,  Fox  or  Swedenborg,  received 
in  some  manner  a  truth  which  the  rest  of  the  world 
had  not,  and  which,  therefore,  he  was  to  preach  and 
reveal.  This  idea  forms  a  comparatively  simple  ap- 
proach to  any  enquiry  into  the  personal  elements  of 


336  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

mysticism.  "When  a  man  refers  to  inward  feelings 
and  experiences/'  says  Coleridge,12  "of  which  man- 
kind at  large  are  not  conscious,  as  evidences  of  the 
truth  of  any  opinion,  such  a  man  I  call  a  mystic :  and 
the  grounding  of  any  theory  or  belief  on  accidents 
and  anomalies  of  individual  sensations  or  fancies  .  .  . 
I  name  mysticism." 

The  usual  way  of  studying  these  "anomalies  of 
individual  sensations "  is,  first,  to  assume  that  they 
exist;  second,  to  assume  that  this  existence  is  "a  sort 
of  undifferentiated  consciousness, ' ' 13  only  to  be  de- 
scribed in  abstract  terms;  and  third,  to  assume  that 
such  sensations  necessarily  involve  "the  perception 
of  higher  reality.  "14  To  this  chain  of  assumptions 
the  modern  investigator  generally  adds  some  refer- 
ences to  the  better-known  psychological  phenomena,  as 
emphasized  in  the  cases  of  the  greater  contemplatives ; 
cites  Teresa,  Loyola,  Mme.  Guyon,  and  Suso ;  and  then 
readily  launches  upon  a  thoroughly  abstract  discus- 
sion of  his  thoroughly  a  priori  theories.  Most  of  these 
discussions  appear  to  require  but  the  thinnest  pos- 
sible substratum  of  fact.  Von  Hiigel's  two  stout  vol- 
umes on  the  subject  of  Catherine  of  Genoa,  have  for 
their  entire  foundation  but  the  "Vita"  and  a  few 
letters  of  her  own  and  her  disciples. 

The  present  section  is  but  a  sincere  attempt  to 
examine  into  the  foundation  of  these  elaborate  theo- 
ries; with  reference  to  what  the  mystics  have  really 
said,  and  what  they  have  really  done.  It  is  evident 
at  the  outset  that  one  must  approach  them  from  a 
point  of  view  removed  as  far  as  possible  from  their 


MYSTICISM:  ITS  INTERPRETATION       337 

own.  To  this  end  the  classification  of  the  data  they 
give  concerning  themselves,  must  be  accompanied  by 
a  rigid  elimination  of  their  own  terms  in  describing 
it.  The  terminology  of  mysticism  has  been  largely 
responsible  for  the  prevailing  confusion  about  the  sub- 
ject ;  for  the  average  reader  may  watch  the  saint  pass 
from  the  via  purgativa  and  the  via  passiva,  to  the  via 
illuminativa  and  be  lost  in  the  ecstasies  of  the  via  uni- 
tiva,15  yet  never  be  a  whit  the  wiser.  Translate  the 
mystic's  premises  into  simpler  terms,  and  it  appears 
to  be  that  he  feels  he  has  attained  truth  through 
means  other  than  those  provided  by  the  senses.  More- 
over, the  fact  that  truth  is  to  be  so  attained,  consti- 
tutes to  him  a  sufficient  proof  of  the  existence  of  a 
transcendental  state,  and  thus  of  the  transcendental 
world.  "And  if  any  have  been  so  happy,"  remarks 
Sir  Thomas  Browne,  not  without  irony,  "as  truly  to 
understand  Christian  annihilation,  ecstasies,  exolution, 
liquefaction,  transformation,  the  kiss  of  the  spouse, 
gustation  of  God  and  ingression  into  the  divine 
shadow, — they  have  already  had  a  handsome  anticipa- 
tion of  heaven  !"16 

One  does  not  wish  to  fall  into  the  attitude  which 
Professor  James  deprecates  in  the  medical  mate- 
rialist, "that  of  discrediting  states  of  mind,  for 
which  we  have  an  antipathy. ' ' 17  Our  endeavor 
should  rather  be  to  understand  them.  Yet  surely 
it  is  always  permissible  to  question  any  assumption, 
nor  can  it  be  wrong  to  subject  a  claim  so  vital 
to  the  same  rigid  scrutiny  which  one  would  feel  in 
honor  bound  obliged  to  accord  any  other  claim  equally 


338  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

wide  in  its  effect  on  human  life  and  ideals.  Science 
has  an  inalienable  right  of  examination  into  this  as 
into  all  other  evidence  of  truth. 

The  first  principle  of  such  an  examination  must  be 
to  reach  back  to  the  words  and  statements  of  the  mys- 
tics themselves;  since  the  instant  these  reach  the  hand 
of  the  theorist,  they  tend  to  undergo  the  most  unfore- 
seen and  extraordinary  transformations.  As  an  ex- 
ample, let  us  turn  to  the  question  of  the  fasting 
of  Catherine  of  Genoa,  of  which  mention  has  al- 
ready been  made.  Says  Miss  Underbill : 18  * '  It  is 
an  historical  fact,  unusually  well-attested  by  con- 
temporary evidence  and  quite  outside  the  sphere  of 
hagiographic  romance  that  .  .  .  Catherine  of  Genoa 
lived  .  .  .  for  constantly  repeated  periods  of  many 
weeks  without  any  other  food  than  the  consecrated 
Host  received  at  Holy  Communion";  during  which 
periods  she  conducted  the  management  of  her  hospital 
with  every  evidence  of  health.  This  would  seem  to 
be  a  sober  yet  striking  statement  of  fact.  The  hyper- 
critical might  perhaps  question  the  value  of  any  con- 
temporary evidence  upon  such  a  subject;  but  most 
of  us  would  accept  it  without  demur.  The  writer 
founds  it  upon  Von  Hiigel's  elaborate  analysis  of 
Catherine's  "Vita";  with  which  it  may  be  profit- 
ably compared.  And  what  does  such  comparison  re- 
veal? In  the  first  place,  that  the  very  "Vita"  which 
is  used  as  a  warrant  for  this  statement  is  considered, 
even  by  its  editor,  as  lying  well  within  rather  than 
without  "the  sphere  of  hagiographic  romance."19 
Secondly,  that  Catherine's  fasts  were  not  absolute, 
since  the  saint  drank  often  of  salt-water  and  of  wine ; 


MYSTICISM:  ITS  INTERPRETATION       339 

while  she  also  partook  "a  small  amount  of  solid  food 
which  at  times  she  was  able  to  retain " ! 20 

The  reader  has  scarcely  recovered  from  the  shock 
of  this  decided  modification  of  Miss  Underbill's  sen- 
tence about  "constantly  repeated  periods  of  many 
weeks  without  any  other  food"  than  the  Host,  when 
he  reads  further  in  the  "Vita"  that  Catherine's  health, 
even  through  this  limited  fasting,  was  so  much  affected, 
that  in  the  year  1496  she  abandoned  the  practice 
altogether,  and  even  took  food  on  the  regular  fast- 
days!  Is  it  any  wonder  that  a  rooted  and  grounded 
distrust  is  the  first  sentiment  aroused  by  any  study  of 
works  on  mysticism?  Is  it  any  wonder  that  one  finds 
it  necessary  to  refer  only  to  the  facts  furnished  by 
the  mystic  himself?  Cases  might  be  multiplied  in- 
definitely in  which  the  whole  superstructure  of  theory 
has  been  raised  on  a  similar  foundation  of  misunder- 
standing. The  reader  will  not  have  forgotten  the 
literature  of  Paul's  conversion.21  Wherever  the  sub- 
ject opens  into  the  unknown,  there  will  be  found  pres- 
ent an  apparent  tendency  in  the  human  mind  to  dis- 
tort, to  qualify,  or  to  misinterpret  the  phenomena  it 
observes. 

Therefore,  however  limited,  however  scanty,  the 
data  yielded  by  authentic  first-hand  records,  give  at 
least  some  solid  ground  beneath  the  worker's  feet. 
True,  the  field  is  greatly  narrowed  whenever  such  lim- 
itations are  imposed  upon  it.  Very  many  great  mys- 
tics have  left  no  such  material:  the  world  has  relied 
wholly  upon  others  for  its  knowledge  of  them.22  Who 
can  pass  to-day  upon  the  correctness  of  such  knowl- 
edge ?  To  this  essential  nature  of  the  facts,  what  they 


340  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

are  and  what  they  indicate,  we  shall,  of  course,  return. 
Our  concern  at  the  moment  lies  with  certain  prevalent 
theories  of  mysticism,  which,  it  is  evident,  occupy 
themselves  far  less  with  fact  than  might  be  wished. 
These  theories  try  to  substantiate  the  mystic's  claim 
to  the  extra-sensual  reception  of  truth;  and  offer 
various  metaphysical  or  philosophical  explanations. 

In  contradistinction  to  this  view,  will  be  found  the 
group  of  rationalists,  mostly  French,  who  place  the 
whole  matter  sweepingly  in  the  realm  of  pathology.23 
Their  claims  require  a  separate  discussion;  but  the 
influence  of  William  James,  who  had  as  harsh  an  esti- 
mate of  their  ideas  as  Gorres  himself,  writing  before 
1836,  could  have  had,  has  caused  them  to  give  way, 
temporarily  at  least,  before  the  metaphysical  battal- 
ions. Miss  Underbill's  book 24  stands  well  in  the  fore- 
front of  these  latter,  and  gives,  perhaps,  as  clear  an 
exposition  of  their  point  of  view  as  is  possible  in  the 
nature  of  things,  and  in  the  style  of  the  writer. 

1 1  That  which  our  religious  and  ethical  teachers  were 
wont  to  call  mere  emotion,"  says  this  writer,  "is  now 
acknowledged  to  be  of  the  primal  stuff  of  conscious- 
ness. .  .  .  Thought  is  but  its  servant. ' '  She  develops 
Pascal's  observation:  ".  .  .  'The  heart  has  its  rea- 
sons which  the  mind  knows  not  of .'  ...  At  the  touch 
of  passion  doors  fly  open  which  logic  has  battered  on 
in  vain."  Although  this  author  thus  places  re- 
ligion beyond  the  realm  of  the  intellect,  yet  she  para- 
doxically desires  to  formulate  an  intellectual  system 
of  mysticism.  At  the  same  time  she  holds  the  terms 
and  symbols  of  psychology  quite  insufficient  to  handle 
the  mystic  life.  Theories  of  the  subconscious  are 


MYSTICISM:  ITS  INTERPRETATION       341 

to  her  mind  but  shadowy  and  tentative  in  contrast 
with  the  certainty  of  the  saints.  "They,  too,  were 
aware  that  in  normal  men  the  spiritual  sense  lies 
below  the  threshold  of  consciousness. " 25/ An  insist- 
ence that  the  mystical  way  is  the  way  of  reality  and 
truth ;  that  the  mystic,  like  genius,  is  beyond  the  law ; 
that  mysticism  is  the  more  direct  method  of  reach- 
ing toward  '  '  the  ideally  normal  state  of  man 's  develop- 
ment ' ' — forms  the  main  thesis  of  her  argument.  ' '  The 
mystic  belongs,"  she  further  remarks,  "to  the  un- 
solved problems  of  humanity" ; 26  and  for  our  full  and 
proper  comprehension  "the  mystics  need  to  be  removed 
both  from  the  sphere  of  marvel  and  that  of  disease." 

In  treating  the  mystic  as  a  genius,  Miss  Underbill, 
of  course,  is  not  alone.  In  his  introduction,  Dr. 
Jones27  repeats  the  same  idea  when  he  prefers  "to 
dwell  on  the  tremendous  service  of  the  mystics. ' '  He 
does  not  define  these  services,  nor  specify  the  attained 
truths,  beyond  likening  their  effect  to  that  of  great 
poetry  or  great  music ;  but  to  his  mind  apparently  they 
form  a  "vital  and  dynamic  religion." 

Putting  aside  for  the  moment  any  considera- 
tion of  the  psychical  phenomena  of  this  state  and 
their  effect  on  the  mystic,  in  order  to  regard  the  ques- 
tion of  results,  the  honest  and  untranscendental  mind 
is  at  once  struck  by  their  amazing  paucity.  If  we 
were  asked  to  define  genius  as  broadly  as  may  be,  most 
of  us  undoubtedly  would  insist  on  the  idea  of  creative- 
ness:  it  is  the  creative  power  of  a  genius  which  is  pre- 
requisite to  our  placing  him  in  that  class.  What- 
ever be  our  theory  of  genius,  we  have  no  doubt  what- 
ever that  its  result  is  creation.  In  the  light  of  re- 


342  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

suit,  in  the  light  of  creation,  how  scanty  is  the  achieve- 
ment of  the  mystic,  compared  with  the  poet,  the  artist, 
or  the  musician!  If  he  does  receive  truth,  as  we  do 
not,  how  little  has  he  contributed  to  the  world's  stock 
of  ideas!  Moreover,  if  we  regard  him  more  nearly, 
will  it  not  be  often  found  that  the  mystic  has  accom- 
plished his  task  rather  in  spite  of,  than  by  reason  of, 
his  mysticism?  The  work  of  Paul,  for  instance,  was 
done  well  after  his  mystical  period  was  ended;  he 
speaks  of  it  as  past.28  It  is  his  power  of  organization, 
his  eloquence,  his  dogmatic  intellect,  which  dissemi- 
nated Christianity,  not  the  fact  that  he  beheld  a  vision. 
All  Loyola's  great  constructive  task  was  started  well 
after  his  mystical  experiences  were  over.  So  was  it 
likewise  with  Luther,  who  believed  he  had  had  these 
experiences,  if  to  us  he  seems  hardly  the  mystic  at  all. 
When  George  Fox  began  to  preach,  his  visions  and 
voices  grew  far  less  marked  than  when  he  wan- 
dered on  the  lonely  moors.  While  religious  experi- 
ence, while  mysticism,  may  be  purely  emotional,  yet 
the  creative  faculty  must  needs  involve  the  intel- 
lect, which  will  immediately  act  as  a  solvent  to  any 
state  of  pure  emotionalism.  The  great  mystic  may 
not,  of  course,  be  aware  of  the  fact,  but  the  process 
which  in  his  soul  was  started  at  the  touch  of  intense 
emotion,  tends  to  decline  the  moment  he  summons  his 
intellect  to  act  on  the  suggestion.  It  has  been  seen 
how  Catherine  of  Genoa  found  that  her  trances,  in- 
duced by  fasting,  interfered  with  her  labors  in  the  hos- 
pital. Although  Delacroix  acknowledges  in  Teresa,29 
'Tetat  de  nevrosisme  grave, "  yet  he  notes  that  her 
life  was  by  no  means  wholly  absorbed  in  the  condi- 


MYSTICISM:  ITS  INTERPRETATION       343 

tions  superinduced  by  ecstasy.  Another  writer 
observes  of  the  same  case,  that  she  "has  a  marvellous 
way  of  keeping  separate  the  various  actions  of  the 
soul  and  of  observing  their  effects  .  .  .  her  autobiog- 
raphy is  one  of  the  chief  authorities  upon  which  re- 
ligious sentiment  is  based  .  .  .  while  her  self -analysis 
is  well  on  the  way  to  becoming  actual  psychology. ' ' 30 
And  yet  the  mystical  system,  evolved  as  the  result  of 
all  this,  has  for  its  aim  but  "quiescence,  emptiness 
of  soul,  darkened  consciousness,  and  the  suspension 
of  the  natural  understanding!"30  Surely,  genius  is 
not  quiescence  but  activity;  it  is  not  emptiness  but 
fulness;  the  consciousness  not  darkened  but  bright- 
ened, the  understanding  not  suspended  but  vivified 
and  heightened. 

The  names  just  mentioned  are  important  names, 
their  owners  would  have  been  personages  in  any  walk 
of  life.  When  one  regards  the  cluster  of  the  lesser 
mystics,  then  the  facts  grow  more  and  more  sug- 
gestive, and  what  they  suggest  is  not  genius.  Dela- 
croix 81  comments  on  Mme.  Guyon  's  mysticism  having 
caused  her  "une  singuliere  impuissance  intellec- 
tuelle,"  and  cites  her  words,  "Je  deviens  toute  stu- 
pide."  "Grace  a  Dieu,"  remarks  A.  C.  Emmerich, 
"  je  n  'ai  presque  jamais  rien  lu. ' '  One  cannot  forget 
the  automatic  stupidity  of  M.  M.  Alacoque,  who  con- 
tinued to  stand  at  the  convent  gate  to  keep  the  pigs 
out  of  the  garden,  long  after  the  same  animals  had 
been  made  into  sausages.32  Maria  d'Agreda  blessed 
God  that  she  was  considered  mentally  weak;  and 
'Joanna  Southcott  is  humbly  proud  of  her  own  dulness 
in  affairs  worldly.  Such  incidents  and  attitudes  as 


344  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

these  do  not  indicate  the  presence  of  genius,  with  its 
rich  creative  activity,  its  rich  energy,  its  rich  sym- 
pathy with  all  forms  of  life.33  Of  course,  it  is  not 
for  one  instant  denied  that  many  types  of  genius  are 
accompanied  by  a  certain  degree  of  mysticism;  it  is 
only  questioned  whether  this  mysticism  is  a  vital 
factor.  In  literature,  for  instance,  there  is  a  tendency 
to  attribute  to  mysticism  much  that  is  properly  due 
only  to  forces  literary  and  personal.  Without  the 
literary  gift,  what  influence  can  the  mystic  leave  be- 
hind him?  Who,  nowadays,  reads  Maria  d'Agreda? 
Is  it  not  those  portions  of  the  work  of  Augustin,  or 
of  Teresa,  which  breathe  of  human  sympathy  and 
human  ideals,  which  have  survived  their  mystical  out- 
pourings ? 

Literature  is  not,  many  will  reply,  a  fair  test; 
the  writer  is  essentially  self-conscious,  and  the  need 
of  expression  stands  in  his  path,  forcing  him  to 
crystallize  those  emotions  which  are  intended  to  re- 
main delicately  floating  and  evanescent.  Perhaps; 
certainly  the  true  mystic  regarded  literature  often  in 
the  nature  of  a  snare.34  Great  contemplatives  have 
died  wholly  sterile,  and  their  heritage  of  truth  has 
died  with  them. 

That  the  truth  seems  so  to  die,  is  contradictory  to 
the  idea  that  mysticism  is  a  form  of  genius;  if  gen- 
ius be  the  means  of  preserving  truth  to  mankind.  If 
that  truth  be  closely  examined  which  the  mystic  claims 
to  have  received  in  a  special  and  individual  manner, 
it  will  invariably  be  found  to  refer  only  to  the  mys- 
tic himself.  It  is  he,  no  other,  who  experienced 
ecstasy  or  unification,  or  who  espouses  Christ,  or  who 


MYSTICISM:  ITS  INTERPRETATION       345 

beholds  heaven  or  hell.  The  whole  mystical  scheme 
is  profoundly,  nay,  even  necessarily,  egotistical,  as 
Dean  Milman  says  of  "The  Imitation  of  Christ":35 
"It  begins  in  self  .  .  .  terminates  in  self."  As  such 
it  must  be  regarded  rather  as  an  artificial,  abnormal 
condition,  than,  as  Miss  Underhill  would  have  it,  "an 
ideally  normal  state  of  man's  development." 

So  much  for  the  question  of  results  due  to  mysti- 
cism. Our  theorists  greatly  object,  as  we  have  already 
seen,  to  the  pathological  view  of  this  state  taken  by 
the  medical-materialist.  The  great  contemplatives,  in 
their  opinion,  "are  almost  always  persons  of  robust 
intelligence  and  marked  practical  and  intellectual 
ability."36  Miss  Underhill  admits  they  suffer  often 
from  bad  physical  health ;  and  that  this  characteristic 
does  produce  * '  inexplicable  modifications  of  the  physi- 
cal organism";  but  she  refuses  to  connect  it  with  hys- 
teria, because  "the  mono-ideism  of  the  mystic  is  ra- 
tional, while  that  of  the  hysteric  patient  is  invariably 
irrational. ' ' 87 

In  that  debatable  land,  where  science  still  struggles 
to  define  for  us  the  limits  of  mental  health  and  dis- 
ease, the  question  of  rationality  and  irrationality  be- 
comes one  of  those  fluctuating  problems  which  are  apt 
to  be  settled  by  each  person  according  to  his  personal 
temperament  and  training.  The  sentence  just  cited 
gives  it  shape  in  its  most  perplexing  form.  Why  is 
one  and  the  same  idee  fixe  to  be  termed  rational  in  one 
case  and  irrational  in  another  ?  Why  is  the  hysterical 
patient  who  refuses  to  take  a  bath  irrational,  while 
Juliana  of  Norwich  and  Lyduine  of  Schiedam,  in  their 
saintly  filth,  are  rational?  Can  any  unbiased  mind 


346  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

call  rational  the  "mono-ideism"  of  A.  C.  Emmerich, 
of  M.  M.  Alacoque,  of  Suso,  of  Baptista  Vernazza, 
of  Antoinette  Bourignon  ?  Even  contemporary  judg- 
ments spoke  of  the  "ravings"  of  Hildegarde,  of 
Joanna  Southcott,  and  of  Maria  d'Agreda.  The  phys- 
ical condition  is  not,  as  Miss  Underhill  seems  to  think, 
mere  accident  or  mere  coincidence;  our  examples  col- 
lected under  that  head  will  be  found  to  point  fixedly 
in  one  direction. 

Von  Hiigel,38  discussing  this  question,  goes  even 
further  than  Professor  James's  somewhat  tentative 
suggestion,  and  thus  warns  the  reader:  " Never  forget 
that  physical  health  is  not  the  true  end  of  human  life 
.  .  .  the  true  question  here  is  not  whether  such  a  type 
of  life  as  we  are  considering  exacts  a  serious  physical 
tribute  or  not,  but  whether  the  specifically  human  ef- 
fects and  fruits  of  that  life  are  worth  the  cost."  No 
doubt  this  were  well  to  remember  in  an  age  which 
tends  to  make  mere  health  somewhat  of  a  fetich;  but 
the  very  query  brings  us  once  more  face  to  face  with 
the  unanswerable  request  for  results.  Where  in  the 
mystic  life  do  we  find  "those  specifically  human  ef- 
fects and  fruits"?  The  genius  has  always  his  mes- 
sage, be  he  Christ  or  Caesar,  but  what  truth  has  the 
minor  mystic  learned  to  teach  his  kind? 

The  truth  most  often  claimed,  which  most  com- 
mentators and  historians  accept  without  cavil,  or  ques- 
tion, or  even  investigation,  relates  to  what  is  known 
as  unification; — i.e.,  the  union  of  the  soul  with  the 
Divine.  That  such  an  union  is  possible  has  been  the 
primary  assumption  of  all  mystics.  On  this  assump- 
tion has  been  founded  in  the  past  such  systems  as  those 


MYSTICISM:  ITS  INTERPRETATION       347 

of  Bonaventura  and  the  Victorines;  in  the  present, 
such  compromises  as  that  of  Professor  William  James. 
It  is  used,  moreover,  to  explain  a  great  many  phe- 
nomena; it  has  never  received  serious  criticism  even 
at  materialist  hands.  That  Man  is  in  essence  Divine ; 
that  he  can  at  moments  return  to  and  become  one 
with  Divinity,  is  an  idea  deeply  rooted  in  the  human 
imagination. 

Were  this  book  to  be  a  history  of  mysticism  (and  the 
subject  still  awaits  some  rational  and  sympathetic 
mind),  it  would  be  interesting  to  trace  this  idea  of 
Divine  union,  from  its  primitive  sources.  We  see  it 
first  in  those  days  when  half -savage  man  conceived  his 
own  deification  during  his  lifetime  as  quite  possible, 
and  his  immediate  deification  after  his  death  as  the 
only  rational  theory  of  immortality.  Those  were  the 
days  when  God  walked  with  Adam  in  the  cool  of  the 
evening,  and  their  souls  were  not  so  far  apart  as  our 
conceptions  make  them  appear  to-day.  Christianity 
would  seem  to  have  taken  the  idea  chiefly  from  Plo- 
tinus,  who  laid  definite  claim  to  having  achieved  such 
union  more  than  once.89  Elaborated  in  the  system  of 
Dionysius  the  Areopagite,  this  initial  conception  of 
the  soul's  return  to,  and  absorption  in,  the  Divine, 
became  connected  with  those  complicated  theories  of 
the  celestial  hierarchy,  which  served  to  bring  heaven 
so  near  to  the  Middle  Ages.  The  classical  ethnologists 
now  regard  this  conception  simply  as  the  attempt  of 
minds  of  a  higher  development  to  account  for  the  prev- 
alent beliefs,  carried  on  from  their  stage  of  earlier 
savagery.  "Spiritual  beings  swarming  through  the 
atmosphere  we  breathe,"40  is  the  theory  by  which  a 


348  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

mind  like  that  of  Dionysius  would  fain  explain  the 
shreds  and  patches  of  earlier  animistic  beliefs,  still 
clinging  alike  to  the  imaginations  of  the  unlettered 
and  the  lettered.  Similar  ideas  prevail  to-day  in  the 
South  Sea  Islands,  where  the  native  holds  the  world 
to  be  crowded  with  spirits.  That  characteristic  effort 
to  formulate,  to  systematize  those  mystical  ideas  which 
men  found  hanging,  as  it  were,  in  the  air  beside  them 
during  the  first  Christian  centuries,  is  repeated  by 
Dionysius.  From  the  Divine  union  of  Plotinus  to  the 
conception  of  an  angelic  host,  was  but  a  step,  and  a 
step  which  made  it  fairly  easy  to  hold  that  any  human 
soul,  under  certain  conditions,  might  attain  to  a  species 
of  deification.  Men  thus  gradually  came  to  believe  in 
the  flattering  notion  of  their  own  (if  momentary) 
divinity ;  and  they  continued  to  hold  it  despite  the  pro- 
tests of  common  sense.  Martin  Luther  cried  out  in  his 
vehement  way,  "that  the  mystical  divinity  of  Dionys- 
ius is  a  fable  and  a  lie!"41 — but  he  stood  well-nigh 
alone  in  this  opinion.  The  mediaeval  world  clung 
closely  to  the  idea  of  an  ineffable  moment,  during 
which  the  soul  cast  off  all  earthly  trammels  and  be- 
came absolutely  a  part  of  the  essence  of  God. 

Now,  when  we  try  to  discover  to-day  exactly  what 
this  idea  meant  to  the  mystic  himself — how  it  affected 
him — how  he  knew,  to  put  it  bluntly,  that  he  had 
attained  to  such  an  union,  a  clamor  of  voices  arises 
from  the  past,  and  no  clear  utterance  save  one.  With- 
out the  voice  of  Augustin,  indeed,  it  would  be  almost 
impossible  for  us  to  conceive  how  the  mediaeval  mind 
was  ever  able  even  to  try  to  systematize  the  indescrib- 
able. Dante,42  it  is  true,  insisted  on  the  reality  of 


MYSTICISM:  ITS  INTERPRETATION       349 

the  intellect's  ll passing  beyond  human  measure"; 
and  adds,  that  if  the  ' '  Scripture  suffice  not  the  invidi- 
ous, let  them  read  Richard  of  St.  Victor,  Bernard 
and  Augustin,  and  they  will  not  grudge  assent." 
Personally,  however,  Dante  seems  to  have  confused 
the  idea  of  religious  ecstasy  with  that  of  poetic  in- 
spiration, which  he  naturally  felt  to  be  for  him  the 
true  expression  of  the  Divine  idea.  The  mystical  at- 
titude is  displayed  more  typically  by  Richard  of  St. 
Victor,  in  whose  effort  to  explain  it  may  be  noted 
the  germ  of  many  a  modern  theoretical  weakness. 
"When  by  excess  of  mind,"  he  writes,43  "we  are 
rapt  above  or  within  ourselves  into  the  contempla- 
tion of  divine  things,  not  only  are  we  straightway 
oblivious  of  things  external  but  also  of  all  that  passes 
in  us.  ...  And  therefore  when  we  return  to  ourselves 
from  that  state  of  exaltation  we  cannot  by  any  means 
recall  to  our  memory  those  things  which  we  have 
erst  seen  above  ourselves.  We  see,  as  it  were,  in  a 
veil  and  in  the  midst  of  a  cloud.  ...  In  wondrous 
fashion,  remembering  we  do  not  remember,  .  .  .  see- 
ing we  do  not  behold  .  .  .  and  understanding  we  do 
not  penetrate." 

This  is  the  type  of  mystical  writing  whose  influ- 
ence in  the  past  over  a  certain  kind  of  mind,  was  al- 
most hypnotic.  It  appears  to  tell  so  much;  and,  of 
course,  realizing  the  date  of  its  composition,  it  must 
be  acknowledged  as  an  admirable  attempt  at  the  de- 
scriptive psychology  of  inner  experience.  Yet,  when 
examined  by  the  quiet  eye  of  common  sense,  Richard 's 
statement  is  merely  that,  during  ecstasy,  the  mind 
neither  formulates  any  thoughts,  nor  the  memory 


350  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

recalls  any  experiences.  The  contemplator,  really, 
neither  perceives  aught,  nor  understands  aught,  nor 
remembers  aught,  of  his  experiences;  he  knows  only 
that  he  has  been  "away."  Surely  this  conception  is 
more  elastic  than  that  of  Hugh  of  St.  Victor,  who  had 
defined  it  as  spiritual  marriage,  in  which  "the  Bride- 
groom is  God  and  the  Bride  is  the  Soul. ' '  **  The 
various  systems  of  "grades  and  steps"  by  which  the 
mediaeval  formalist  tried  to  satisfy  his  intellect,  leads 
the  modern  student  no  nearer  truth  than  this  sim- 
ple statement  of  the  mystic  that  his  soul  had  been 
"away." 

Let  the  reader  carry  in  his  mind,  for  a  little,  this 
one  idea, — that  the  mediaeval  mind  believed  the  soul 
might  be  away,  and  might  return.  It  will  be  found 
to  have  a  significance  for  him  to-day,  which  it  did 
not  possess  for  the  Victorines.  Let  him  add  to  it,  if 
he  will,  a  paragraph  from  the  "Confessions,"  in 
which  Augustin,  at  the  height  of  his  genius,  laid  the 
foundation  for  ten  centuries  of  mysticism, — and  he 
will  possess  in  his  own  memory,  the  key  to  this  en- 
tire kingdom.  Charged  with  poetry,  Augustin 's 
words  are  lucidity  itself ;  and  they  convey  a  deep  per- 
ception of  an  important  psychological  truth,  qualified, 
limited,  defined,  as  truth  must  be. 

Says  the  saint : 45  "  If  to  any  the  tumult  of  the  flesh 
were  hushed,  hushed  the  images  of  earth,  and  waters 
and  air,  hushed  also  the  poles  of  heaven,  yea,  the  very 
soul  be  hushed  to  herself,  and  by  not  thinking  on  self, 
surmount  self,  hushed  all  dreams  and  imaginary  reve- 
lations, every  tongue  and  every  sign,  ...  if  then,  .  .  . 
He  alone  speak  .  .  .  not  through  any  tongue  of  flesh, 


MYSTICISM:  ITS  INTERPRETATION       351 

nor  angel's  voice,  nor  sound  of  thunder,  nor  in  the 
dark  riddle  of  a  similitude,  .  .  .  but  we  might  hear 
His  very  self  without  these  (as  we  two  now  strained 
ourselves  and  in  swift  thought  touched  on  that  Eter- 
nal Wisdom  which  abide th  over  all) ; — could  this  be 
continued  on,  and  other  visions  of  a  kind  far  unlike 
be  withdrawn,  and  this  one  ravish,  and  absorb,  and 
wrap  up  its  beholder  amid  these  inward  joys,  so  that 
life  might  be  forever  like  that  one  moment  of  under- 
standing which  now  we  sighed  after;  were  not  this: 
'Enter  into  the  joy  of  thy  Lord'?" 

After  all  the  frantic  jargon  of  the  transcendental- 
ist, — what  an  accent,  what  words,  are  these!  The 
accurate  self-observation  which  led  Augustin  to  for- 
mulate such  questions  is  the  result  of  his  peculiarly 
introspective  genius;  but  he  never  forgets  that  they 
are  questions,  and  that  he  asks  them  of  himself.  The 
mediaeval  world  forgot  that  Augustin  said  "//,"  and 
"Were  not  this?";  but,  seizing  upon  the  suggestion 
that  described  so  profound  a  truth  of  human  feeling, 
it  omitted  the  limitations  which  Augustin  had  been 
so  careful  to  retain.  In  another  work,46  he  observes, 
with  equal  caution,  that  "Certain  great  and  incom- 
parable souls  whom  we  believe  to  have  seen  and  to 
see  these  things,  have  told  as  much  as  they  judge 
meet  to  be  told."  Here  are  sentences  which  stand 
close  to  our  modern  point  of  view  in  their  careful 
moderation;  and  the  interpretation,  which  for  cen- 
turies the  world  of  transcendental  thought  chose  to 
make  of  them,  are  only  another  warrant  for  a  return 
to  the  original  statement. 

Upon  these  paragraphs,  supplemented  by  the  half- 


852  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

legendary  experiences  of  the  Neo-Platonist  Plotinus, 
elaborated  and  confused  by  the  Areopagite,  the  en- 
tire structure  of  mediaeval  mysticism  is  founded; 
they  are  the  real  gates  to  the  Via  Mystica.  Upon 
these  great  "ifs"  of  Augustin, — if  the  tumult  of  the 
flesh  were  hushed,  and  if  we  could  hear  God 's  voice, — - 
and  if  his  word  continued  on  and  blotted  out  all  else, 
— and  if  all  life  might  be  like  that  one  "moment  of 
understanding, " — the  imagination  of  the  Middle  Ages 
built  a  new  heaven  and  a  new  hell.  The  effect  of  this 
idea  on  the  simple  mind  was  no  deeper  than  on  the 
powerful  mind.  Systematized  by  Bonaventura  and 
the  St.  Victors,  carried  to  extravagant  excess  by  Mech- 
tilde  or  Catherine  of  Siena,  this  initial  "if"  of  Au- 
gustin contains  the  real  phenomenon  of  mysticism. 

It  is  the  world's  ready  response  to  this  somewhat 
complex  suggestion  that  holds  the  real  miracle.  If 
Plotinus  felt  the  characteristic  certitude  of  the  mys- 
tical subject,  surely  we  see  here  that  Augustin  did 
not!  Yet  he  is  made  by  most  writers  to  father  the 
whole  body  of  mystical  phenomena, — visions,  voices, 
ecstasies, — with  never  so  much  as  a  hint  of  an  "if." 

The  experiences  of  the  mystics,  as  a  body,  did  not 
come  under  observation  till  less  than  a  century  ago. 
One  would  naturally  have  supposed  that  the  first  step 
would  be  the  examination  of  the  evidence  at  hand. 
But  even  to-day,  and  by  the  writers  under  pres- 
ent discussion,  the  primary  assumption  of  the  mys- 
tic is  not  so  much  as  questioned.  It  is  taken  for 
granted  that  the  mystical  experience  is,  for  instance, 
productive  of  truth ;  yet  we  have  seen  that,  when  un- 
wrapped from  its  verbal  tissues,  Richard  of  St.  Vic- 


MYSTICISM:  ITS  INTERPRETATION      853 

tor's  statement  is  only  that  his  soul  at  moments  was 
"away."  This  is  no  very  striking  result,  when  com- 
pared to  the  inferences  drawn  by  Victorine  commenta- 
tors, but  it  is  exceedingly  typical.  That  quiet  eye  of 
common  sense,  before  whose  gaze  many  theories  must 
needs  evaporate,  when  turned  upon  the  mystic,  will  see 
a  monstrous  heap  of  such  theories,  piled  upon  a  very 
small  substratum  of  fact.  What  results  will  it  dis- 
cover in  other  mystical  phenomena  ?  Our  modern  the- 
orists accept  the  visions  and  voices,  but  find  them  hard 
to  explain.  Miss  Underbill,  calling  the  subject  "the 
eternal  battleground, " 4T  thinks  both  sides  extreme, 
and  favors  a  symbolistic  interpretation.48  At  times, 
according  to  her  view,  the  visionary  experiences  may 
become  pathological,  or  neurotic,  and  when  this  oc- 
curs, then  they  express  "merely  exhaustion  or  tem- 
porary loss  of  balance."  To  the  latter  condition  be- 
long the  personal  self-glorification  of  Angela  da  Fo- 
ligno ; 49  while  Loyola 's  vision  of  the  plectrum  was  of 
the  high  symbolic  type.50 

It  has  ever  been  characteristic  of  a  certain  type  of 
theorist,  that  he  starts  by  ignoring  the  proposition  that 
things  which  are  equal  to  the  same  thing  are  equal  to 
each  other.  How  is  the  adherent  of  pure  symbolism 
to  differentiate  between  those  manifestations  by  visions 
and  voices  which  came  from  the  mystic's  higher 
power;  and  those  which  proceed  from  his  loss  of  bal- 
ance ?  Naturally,  they  become  classified  according  to 
the  critic's  own  beliefs  and  imagination,  just  as  Luther 
classified  his  vision  as  from  the  Devil.  One  may  de- 
cide, for  instance,  that  the  "spiritual  marriage"  of 
Gertrude  of  Eisleben  was  symbolistic;  another,  that 


354  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

that  of  Angela  da  Foligno  proceeded  from  hysteria. 
As  the  mystical  subject  herself  is  never  in  the  least 
doubtful  as  to  the  source  of  her  experiences,  and  as 
these  experiences,  when  compared,  will  be  found  to  re- 
semble one  another  to  the  smallest  particular,  no  desire 
for  compromise  can  make  it  a  reasonable  proceeding  to 
exalt  the  one  and  to  condemn  the  other,  while  we  have 
the  identical  evidence — or  lack  of  evidence — in  regard 
to  both. 

1 '  In  persons  of  mystical  genius, ' y  explains  Miss  Un- 
derbill, "the  qualities  which  the  stress  of  normal  life 
tends  to  keep  below  the  threshold  of  consciousness,  are 
of  enormous  strength.  .  .  .  They  develop  unchecked 
until  a  point  is  reached  ...  at  which  they  break  their 
bonds  and  emerge  into  the  conscious  field ;  either  tem- 
porarily dominating  the  subject,  as  in  ecstasy,  or  per- 
manently transmuting  the  old  self,  as  in  the  unitive 
life/'51 

Our  comment  upon  this  passage  is  but  to  return  once 
again  to  that  collection  of  facts  relating  to  relapse  and 
reaction,  which  occupy  so  many  pages  of  this  volume. 
These  will  be  seen  to  have  an  especial  bearing  on  the 
progressive  states  of  emotion  of  the  mystic;  and  to 
throw  a  new  light  on  that  permanent  transmutation 
of  the  self,  of  which  Miss  Underbill  speaks  so  con- 
fidently. Is  there  any  actual  record  of  even  one  such 
permanent  transmutation?  Are  there  not,  even 
among  those  souls  whose  essential  spirituality  is  ex- 
alted to  the  highest  point, — whose  general  plane  seems 
to  differ  from  our  own, — are  there  not  always  periods 
of  relapse,  of  reaction,  of  aridity,  of  withdrawal  from 
God  ?  So  keenly  are  these  states  of  reaction  felt  by  the 


MYSTICISM:  ITS  INTERPRETATION       355 

greater  mystics,  that  it  is  of  them  John  of  the  Cross 
would  speak  when  he  uses  the  phrase  ' '  the  Dark  Night 
of  the  Soul. ' '  If  the  mystical  way  be,  indeed,  a  way  of 
ascent,  then  the  language  used  by  the  pilgrims  them- 
selves to  describe  the  oscillation  of  their  state  is  of  ex- 
traordinary vividness,  and  by  no  means  confident  or 
assured.  This  oscillation  is  described  as  an  unspeak- 
able agony  of  pain  mental  and  physical;  Canon 
Vaughan 52  gives  a  series  of  cited  phrases  to  denote  it, 
which  are  in  themselves  very  striking.  Teresa's  is  the 
most  moderate;  she  calls  it  simply  the  "gran  pena" 
which  accompanied  and  preceded  the  mystical  state. 
''This  pain  is  the  'pressura  interna'  of  Tauler;  the 
'horribile  et  indicibile  tormentum'  of  Catherine  of 
Genoa;  the  'purgatory'  of  Thomas  a  Jesu;  the  'lan- 
guor infernalis'  of  Harphius;  the  'terribile  martyr- 
ium'  of  Maria  Vela  the  Cistercian;  the  'divisio  naturae 
ac  spiritus'  of  Barbanson;  the  'privation  worse  than 
hell'  of  Angela  da  Foligno."  Some  of  these  epithets, 
notably  that  of  Barbanson,  are  most  suggestive,  and 
we  shall  have  cause  to  remember  them  later.  But  the 
whole  question  of  the  soul's  ascent  to  higher  levels  as- 
sumes a  very  different  aspect  when  these  periods  of 
conflict  and  relapse  are  examined.  That  moment  of 
unity  with  God,  which  is  the  highest  pinnacle  of  this 
condition,  is  very  transient  compared  with  the  oscil- 
lations which  may  reach  up  to  it,  and  whether  one 
can  reasonably — I  do  not  say  logically — term  such  a 
moment  a  permanent  transmutation,  is  a  matter  of 
serious  doubt.  Delacroix53  points  out  the  need  of 
differentiating  between  the  passive  mystic  and  him 
who  conquers  souls;  and  gives  an  interesting  defini- 


356  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

tion  of  mysticism  as  "un  certain  etat  d 'exaltation, 
qui  abroge  le  sentiment  du  Moi  ordinaire."54  Al- 
though he  does  not  ignore  the  presence  of  the  "peine 
extatique"  55  of  Teresa,  or  the  "mort  mystique"  of 
Mme.  Guyon,  yet  he  does  not  lend  them  any  especial 
emphasis  by  criticism.  That  ecstatic  moment,  which  is 
the  mystic's  highest  aim  and  achievement,  plays  so 
small  a  part,  in  time,  in  his  whole  progress,  that  there 
is  no  evidence  whatever  it  can  possibly  "  abroge  le 
sentiment  du  Moi  ordinaire."  On  the  contrary,  the 
words  and  actions  of  the  mystic  during  every  age  show 
that  the  necessary  occupation  with  his  own  feelings 
and  ideas  has  served  to  increase  and  to  enlarge  the 
Ego,  to  make  the  "Moi"  wholly  disproportionate. 
In  fact,  the  extent  and  profundity  of  the  mystical 
egotism  is  another  argument  for  refusing  to  class 
it  with  genius.  Genius  is  frequently  egotistic,  but 
egotism  is  not  its  end  and  aim,  as  it  is  always  the  end 
and  aim  of  mysticism.  The  mystic  may  scourge  and 
trample  on  the  physical  self,  but  it  is  always  for  the 
purpose  of  exalting  and  indulging  what  he  holds  to  be 
his  higher  self. 

The  self-importance  aroused  by  this  attitude  is  limit- 
less. Ubertino  da  Casale  regarded  himself  as  on  the 
most  intimate  terms  with  the  Holy  Family,  and  often 
as  the  "brother"  of  Christ.  Angela  da  Foligno  says 
that  Christ  told  her  he  loved  her  better  than  any 
woman  in  the  vale  of  Spoleto.  The  words  of  this 
passage  are  fatuous  almost  beyond  belief :  ' '  Then  He 
began  to  say  to  me  the  words  that  follow,  to  provoke 
me  to  love  Him;  0  my  sweet  daughter!  0  my 
daughter,  my  temple!  0  my  daughter,  my  delight! 


MYSTICISM:  ITS  INTERPRETATION       357 

Love  me,  because  thou  art  much  loved  by  Me.  And 
often  did  He  say  to  me:  0  my  daughter,  My  sweet 
Spouse!  And  He  added  in  an  underbreath,  I  love 
thee  more  than  any  other  woman  in  the  valley  of 
Spoleto. ' ' B6  To  amuse  and  to  delight  Gertrude  of 
Eisleben,  He  sang  duets  with  her  "in  a  tender  and 
harmonious  voice."  The  same  saint  writes  of  their 
"incredible  intimacy";  and  here,  as  in  later  passages 
of  Angela  da  Foligno,  the  reader  is  revolted  by  their 
sensuality.  When  Sister  Therese  of  the  Holy  Child,57 
learned  the  name  which  had  been  given  her  in  re- 
ligion, she  took  it  for  "a  delicate  attention  of  the 
adorable  Child!"  Jesus  told  Osanna  Andreasi  that 
he  would  himself  teach  her  to  be  a  little  saint.  In  the 
diary  of  Marie  de  Tlncarnation  there  is  such  an  en- 
try as  "entretien  familier  avec  J. — C.";  and  during 
such  interviews  she  makes  use  of  a  sort  of  pious  baby- 
talk,  like  a  saintly  Tillie  Slowboy.  The  famous  Beata 
di  Piedrahita,  Dr.  Lea  tells  us,  upheld  her  claim  to 
Divine  powers  by  declaring  that  Christ  was  often  with 
her,  and  even  that  she  herself  was  Christ.58  Mary 
of  the  Divine  Heart  (who  died  in  1899)  heard  the 
voice  saying:  "You  will  be  the  Spouse  of  my  heart." 

It  is  needless  once  more  to  single  out  those  persons 
who  were  regarded,  as  they  thought,  by  the  Devil  in 
the  light  of  almost  equal  foes;  nor  to  repeat  that  the 
attitude  toward  God  of  M.  M.  Alacoque,  Baptiste 
Varani,  A.  C.  Emmerich,  was  that  of  a  favorite 
sultana.  Moreover,  that  ineffable  instant  of  union 
with  the  Divine,  is  usually  expressed  in  terms  exalt- 
ing the  mystic  rather  than  his  Deity.  "I  ate  and 
drank  of  God,"  observes  Baptista  Vernazzaj  and 


358  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

again,  ' '  God  wished  to  devour  Me  entirely ! ' '  He  as- 
sured Angela  da  Foligno:  "All  the  Saints  of  Paradise 
have  for  thee  a  special  love,  and  I  shall  join  thee  to 
their  company." B9  "There  was  nothing  between  God 
and  my  soul,"  remarks  the  complacent  Antoinette 
Bourignon;  and  just  in  this  same  manner  boasts 
Joseph  Smith,  the  Mormon:  "God  is  my  right-hand 
man!"60 

All  this  may  be,  and  has  been,  variously  regarded ;  it 
may  be  considered  as  mediaeval  naivete;  or  as  sexual 
excitement ;  or  as  megalomania  from  paresis ;  but  what- 
ever the  explanation,  such  attitudes  cannot  be  held  to 
imply  any  abrogation  of  the  Ego.  Such  an  idea  was 
not  present  in  the  minds  of  any  of  the  great  ascetics ; 
for  their  self-importance  was  carried  much  further 
than  simply  into  accidental  practice ;  it  was  a  dogma ; 
so  preached  and  taught.  We,  who  read  these  instances 
with  mingled  feelings  of  incredulity  and  disgust,  must 
not  forget  that  occupation  with  one's  own  soul  was 
the  essential  duty,  the  only  possible  means  of  salva- 
tion. Thomas  a  Kempis  insists  on  it ; 61  Luis  of 
Granada,  that  saintly  youth  too  pure-minded  to  gaze 
upon  his  own  mother,  warns  the  neophyte  of  the 
dangers  in  wishing  to  do  good  to  others.62  The  honest 
mind  finds  it  hard  to  accept  a  scheme  so  supremely 
selfish  in  the  light  of  "an  ideally-normal  state  of  man's 
development";  and  ere  the  world  as  a  whole  can  ever 
so  accept  it,  there  needs  full  justification  through  the 
achievement  of  the  highest  creative  truth. 

Objection  to  mysticism  as  an  "ideally-normal  state, " 
and  questioning  of  the  truth  so  acquired,  is  nearly  as 
old  as  Christianity.  Under  certain  circumstances,  this 


MYSTICISM:  ITS  INTERPRETATION       359 

objection  has  at  times  taken  so  definite  a  form,  that 
even  the  great  leader  and  whilom  mystic,  Loyola,  ex- 
pressed very  vigorous  doubts ;  and  sought  to  substitute 
the  rule  of  obedience  to  defined  authority.  Dr.  Lea,63 
with  that  simple  appeal  to  historical  facts  which  he 
can  make  so  distinguished,  has  pointed  out  some  of 
the  dangers  which  beset  "the  perilous  paths  of  super- 
human ecstasy "  in  the  past,  and  which  it  were  well 
not  wholly  to  forget  in  the  latitudinarianism  of  the 
present.  Spain  was  long  free  from  mystical  tendencies, 
and,  when  they  began  to  appear,  the  Church  made 
systematic  efforts  to  uproot  them.  This  was  necessary 
for  self-preservation,  as  has  already  been  noted;  but 
Dr.  Lea 64  makes  it  very  striking  when  he  shows  that 
for  one  Teresa,  one  John  of  the  Cross,  there  existed 
hundreds  of  self-deluded  illuminati,  who  differed  from 
them  only  as  failure  differs  from  success.  These  were 
regarded  as  a  direct  menace  to  the  Church,  and  came 
under  the  jurisdiction  of  the  Inquisition. 

As  early  as  1616,65  theologians  decided  that  special 
revelations  from  on  high  were  no  proof  of  sanctity; 
and  the  trials  of  the  mystics  F.  Ortiz  and  Maria 
Cazalla,  settled  in  the  negative  their  claims  to  be  un- 
der special  guidance,  and  exempt  from  the  general 
rules  laid  down  for  the  use  of  sinners.  The  persecu- 
tion and  torture  of  these  unfortunates  came  as  the 
result  of  their  assertions.  Epidemics  of  a  mystical 
character,  such  as  that  in  the  convent  of  Placido  in 
1630,66  and  at  Louviers  and  Loudun,67  some  years  later, 
were  handled  with  like  severity.  They  concern  us 
here  only  as  they  prove  the  existence  of  contemporary 
doubt.  Even  in  the  ages  of  credulity,  the  human  in- 


360  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

tellect  raised  itself  at  moments  above  the  level  of 
superstition  to  ask  these  illuminati,  as  we  ask  them, 
for  results.  Where,  asked  the  Church,  are  the  crea- 
tions of  your  genius,  what  are  the  truths  of  your  rev- 
elation ?  When  the  claimant  chanced  to  be  a  creature 
of  convincing  mental  powers  joined  to  a  magnetic  per- 
sonality, his  superiority  was  immediately  accepted  as 
proof  of  his  Divine  favor.  If  he  displayed  no  such 
qualities,  then  the  reverence  due  a  saint  turned  speed- 
ily into  the  horror  due  an  heretic.  "The  Church," 
says  Dr.  Lea,  "was  in  the  unfortunate  position  of  be- 
ing committed  to  the  belief  in  special  manifestations 
of  supernatural  power,  while  it  was  confessedly  unable 
to  determine  whether  they  came  from  heaven  or  hell. 
This  had  long  been  recognized  as  one  of  the  most 
treacherous  pit-falls.  ...  As  early  as  the  twelfth 
century,  Richard  of  St.  Victor  warns  his  disciples  to 
beware  of  it,  and  Aquinas  points  out  that  trances  may 
come  from  God,  from  the  demon,  or  from  bodily  affec- 
tions. "  John  Gerson  endeavored  to  meet  this  danger 
by  forming  a  set  of  diagnostic  rules;  John  of  Avila 
added  his  warning  against  delusion;  while  the  histo- 
rian comments  that  all  this  confusion  was  "merely  an- 
other instance  of  the  failure  of  humanity  in  its  efforts 
to  interpret  the  Infinite."68  It  is  only  to-day  that 
scholars  seem  confident  of  their  interpretation,  that 
they  accord  the  mystics  a  complete  credulity  and  ac- 
ceptation such  as  they  never  received  in  the  past.  For 
all  of  ten  centuries,  the  mind  of  the  Church  is  seen 
to  fluctuate  between  the  state  of  credulity  and  the 
struggle  against  it;  between  fear  and  knowledge. 


MYSTICISM:  ITS  INTERPRETATION       361 

Fluctuations  between  these  opposite  points  of  view 
often  lasted  long  after  the  subject  was  in  his  grave. 
The  revelations  of  Maria  d'Agreda,  which  had  for  ti- 
tle "The  Mystic  City  of  God/'  were  placed  on  the 
Index  in  1681,  taken  off  in  1686,  condemned  in  France 
by  the  Sorbonne  in  1696,  and  finally  allowed  to  cir- 
culate among  the  faithful  in  1716,  "thus  furnish- 
ing/ '  comments  Dr.  Lea,  "another  example  of  the 
difficulty  of  differentiating  between  sanctity  and 
heresy. ' ' 69  Even  the  Inquisition  itself  grew,  to  use 
the  same  historian's  phrase,  "rationalistic  in  its  treat- 
ment of  these  cases";70  for  in  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, it  sent  one  case  to  an  insane  asylum,  and  in 
1817,  ordered  yet  another  to  obtain  medical  advice. 
The  Middle  Ages,  in  the  person  of  St.  Bonaventura, 
may  even  be  found  commenting  on  a  certain  passage 
from  Eichard  of  St.  Victor — where  he  describes  the 
highest  grade  of  Divine  love  as  producing  an  apparent 
idiocy.71  The  very  conjunction  of  these  terms  denotes 
that  the  mediaeval  mind  had  not  lost  the  power  of 
judgment  by  comparison.  And  if  this  be  true,  surely 
the  mind  of  the  twentieth  century  has  an  equal  right 
to  ask  for  definite  results  before  rendering  a  final  ver- 
dict. 

The  modern  theorist,  therefore,  has  not  aided  us  to 
understand  this  complex  and  delicate  subject ;  he  has 
rather  confused  than  cleared  it.  On  the  one  hand,  his 
reverence,  on  the  other,  his  contempt,  for  what  he  finds 
incomprehensible,  places  him  at  a  disadvantage  toward 
his  subject  and  thus  toward  his  reader.  The  latter,  if 
he  would  know  anything  of  the  mystic,  must  shut  his 


362  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

ears  to  the  clamor  of  theory  and  open  them  only  to  the 
voices  from  the  past,  as  contained  in  the  documents  of 
spiritual  history  and  autobiography. 

That  the  Church  was  originally  rich  in  the  docu- 
ments of  mystical  confession — particularly  those  ad- 
dressed to  the  spiritual  director  and  bequeathed  to 
him  after  death — admits  of  no  possible  doubt:  the 
marvel  is  that  so  few,  comparatively  speaking,  are  ex- 
tant in  their  integrity.  For  this  result,  it  would  seem 
that  the  standard  of  biography  the  Church  has  chosen 
to  adopt  must  be  responsible ;  otherwise  weeks  of  care- 
ful search  among  the  wonderful  indices  of  the  great 
and  lesser  Bollandists,  must  have  yielded  a  larger 
number  of  valid  examples. 

The  feeling  that  it  is  necessary  to  publish  a  reli- 
gious confession  intact,  is  extremely  modern.  More- 
over, it  is  a  scientific  feeling,  and  springs  from  a 
sense  of  scientific  obligation.  The  Church  has  never 
felt  it;  by  the  nature  of  things  never  could  feel  it. 
Even  to-day  she  rather  prefers  that  the  devout  should 
peruse  his  Augustin  in  a  carefully  edited  little  volume 
with  most  of  its  frank  humanity  omitted.  The  faith- 
ful are  not  forbidden  to  read  the  full  edition  of  the 
confessions  of  any  saint ;  but  the  book  which  is  placed 
within  their  easy  reach  is  not  the  full  edition.  The 
Church's  authority,  in  this  regard  as  in  others,  exerts 
itself  to  suppress  individualism  and  to  maintain  a  due 
attitude  of  reverence.  The  mystic  is  the  supreme  in- 
dividualist, and  for  this  reason  the  Church  has  for 
centuries  looked  upon  him  askance.  Her  attitude 
resembles  that  of  the  colonel  of  a  regiment  who  should 


MYSTICISM:  ITS  INTERPRETATION       363 

find  that  one  of  his  privates  claimed  to  be  in  re- 
ceipt of  special  orders  from  the  commander-in-chief, 
transmitted  to  him  individually,  and  outside  of  the 
ordinary  channels.  Such  presumptuous  zeal  comes 
near  to  mutiny;  thus  the  Church  has  tended  to  treat 
as  mutineers  such  bodies  as  the  Jansenists,  such  indi- 
viduals as  Mme.  Guyon.  For  every  mystic  she  has 
canonized,  she  has  silenced  ten.72 

In  the  preface  to  the  Works  of  John  of  the  Cross, 
the  learned  translator  remarks  that  he  has  altered  the 
words  of  the  saint ' f  en  adoucissant  les  propositions  un 
peu  dures,  en  temperant  celles  qui  sont  trop  sub  tiles 
et  trop  metaphysiques " ; 73  and  this  same  idea  is  car- 
ried further  in  an  approbatory  letter  from  the  Uni- 
versity of  Alcala,  which  declares  that  in  the  works 
of  this  saint  * '  naught  has  been  found  contrary  to  the 
Catholic  Faith. "  '  *  In  fact, ' '  proceeds  the  letter, ' '  all 
these  works  are  valuable  both  for  good  morals,  and  to 
govern  spiritually  inclined  persons,  and  to  disengage 
them  from  any  illusions  which  they  may  suffer  if  they 
make  too  much  of  their  state  of  visions  and  revela- 
tions. ' ' 74  John  of  Avila  warns  his  pious  reader  in 
positive  terms  against  dangerous  illusions,  or  the 
desire  of  things  singular  and  supernatural,  as 
denoting  a  spirit  of  wicked  pride  and  curiosity. 
Many  passages  of  a  similar  kind  might  be  cited  to 
show  that  the  Church  felt  herself  fully  justified  in 
editing,  excising,  and  freely  altering  the  works  of  all 
mystics,  whether  great  or  small,  which  came  into  her 
possession.75 

This  custom  has  naturally  increased  the  difficulties 
of  the  lay  investigator.  True,  some  of  the  saints  have 


364  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

been  great  figures,  whose  records  meant  so  much  to  the 
world  at  large  that  they  outlived  and  escaped  this  dis- 
cipline, but  these  are  few.  Pious  exhortation  and 
pious  comparison  being  the  ideal  of  these  biographers, 
the  facts  about  the  subject  are  considered  of  relatively 
small  importance.  No  attempt  is  made  to  verify 
legend,  or  to  substantiate  miracle;  the  narratives  of 
contemporary  witnesses  are  not  questioned;  and 
usually  the  bull  of  canonization  will  be  printed  as  the 
single  "piece  justificative."  Where  an  actual  auto- 
biography exists,  it  has  been  so  transposed,  or  so  in- 
corporated into  the  text,  as  to  nullify  its  value.76 
Even  the  Bollandists,  the  splendor  of  whose  biographi- 
cal achievement  dazzles  the  humble-minded, — even 
these  great  historians  seem  to  have  no  feeling  what- 
ever for  the  necessity  of  shifting  the  legend  from  the 
facts. 

Many  of  the  earlier  French  and  Italians  suffer 
editing  at  the  most  incompetent  hands.  When  the 
editor  is  more  capable,  his  insistence  on  his  sub- 
ject's sanctity  under  all  circumstances  may  stand 
wholly  in  the  way  of  accuracy.  Augustin77  suffers 
from  this  attitude,  when  his  plain  statement  of  his  sins 
is  blandly  misinterpreted  as  the  exaggeration  due  to 
his  saintly  humility.  It  is  even  more  irritating  in  the 
biographer  of  Mme.  de  Chantal,78  when  that  saintly 
lady  abandoned  the  duties  of  her  houseful  of  children 
for  the  more  exciting  transports  of  the  cloister. 

Moreover,  this  method — or  rather  this  lack  of 
method — has  worked  a  more  serious  injury  still,  by 
depriving  history  of  the  elucidation  possible  only 
through  the  study  of  defined  groups.  Isolated  and 


MYSTICISM:  ITS  INTERPRETATION       365 

edited  in  the  manner  we  have  just  described,  these  rec- 
ords cease  to  reflect  each  other.  No  group-sentiment 
is  preserved,  no  group-characteristics  are  manifested. 
'  *  Sans  doute, ' '  observes  a  recent  biographer,  ' '  rien  ne 
ressemble  a  une  vie  de  saint  comme  une  autre  vie  de 
saint " ; 79  yet  there  are  diversities  caused  by  race  and 
by  development  which  it  would  have  been  worth  our 
while  to  determine.  To  be  deprived  of  this  matter 
over  so  long  a  period  is  a  misfortune,  and  one  which 
has  served  to  narrow  the  field  of  investigation  in  a 
very  hampering  manner.  This  is  probably  the  cause 
why  the  psychologists — of  whatever  camp — base  their 
conclusions  on  the  data  obtained  from  three  or  four 
cases  only,  Teresa  oftenest,  or  Suso,  or  Mme.  Guyon. 
Comparison  by  means  of  groups  is  denied  them. 

Yet,  however  the  lives  of  the  saints  resemble  one 
another,  it  grows  more  and  more  evident  that  one  can- 
not fairly  estimate  sanctity  by  considering  one  or  two 
great  individuals.  The  documents  remaining  may  be 
all  too  few,  but  they  are  at  least  enough  to  demon- 
strate the  futility  of  any  such  attempt.  Take  the  cases 
of  Teresa  and  Loyola,  for  example.  Teresa  had  an 
organizing  mind,  she  was  an  efficient,  vigorous,  and 
intelligent  woman.  Loyola  had  an  organizing  mind, 
he  was  a  soldier,  a  courtier,  and  a  practical  man. 
Yet  if  one  were  to  use  these  two  cases  on  which  to 
build  a  general  theory  of  sanctity,  how  far  would  he 
wander  from  the  truth!  One  critic  of  this  subject 
lays  emphasis  on  the  presence  in  the  mystic's  heart  of 
what  he  names  " vital  sanctity"  80  rather  than  on  any 
manifestations  of  special  phenomena.  This  term  is 
rather  too  vague  to  be  convincing.  On  the  other 


366  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

hand,  Delacroix  appears  to  think  that  mysticism  may 
be  adequately  studied  only  from  the  examples  of  the 
great  mystics,  just  because  their  constructive  genius 
separates  them  definitely  from  all  cases  suffering  a 
neuropathical  stigma.  Theory  here,  as  elsewhere  on 
this  question,  is  decidedly  a  priori. 

It  were  well  to  pause  and  consider  the  docu- 
ment itself,  rather  than  its  critics.  The  general  im- 
pression it  has  left  upon  the  mind  has  been  accu- 
rately drawn  by  Delacroix.81  "Les  mystiques/'  he 
writes,  "n 'ecrivent  leur  vie  qu'a  une  epoque  ou  ils 
sont  deja  avances  dans  les  voies  interieures.  .  .  .  Les 
documents  qu'ils  nous  donnent  ont  le  caractere  de 
souvenirs  et  de  memoires,  beaucoup  plus  que  celui  de 
journal  ou  de  notes.  ...  Si  disposees  que  soient  les 
mystiques  a  1  'observation  interieure  et  a  1  'analyse  per- 
sonnelle,  1'idee  du  document  scientifique  leur  est  tout- 
a-fait  etrangere.  Ils  ecrivent,  soit  sur  un  ordre  in- 
terieur,  soit  sur  1 'ordre  d'un  directeur.  Du  plus,  au 
moment  qu'ils  ecrivent  ...  ils  ont  deja  1'idee  du 
caractere  de  ces  etats,  .  .  .  1'idee  d'une  suite,  d'un 
progres."82  The  significance  of  this  conception  of  a 
progressive  state  to  the  mystic,  has  already  been  men- 
tioned and  will  be  later  dealt  with.  As  an  idea  it  had 
much  influence  upon  their  presentation  of  their  ma- 
terial, as  upon  their  interpretation  of  it.  From  the 
mediaeval  cases  we  cannot  expect  to  gain  such  classi- 
fied and  detailed  information  as  the  Quakers,  under 
very  different  influences,  felt  it  necessary  to  leave  in 
their  testimonies ;  and  the  lack  of  all  group-character- 
istics is  more  serious  still.  From  the  scanty  and 
cloudy  records  of  the  early  Middle  Ages,  much  of 


MYSTICISM:  ITS  INTERPRETATION       367 

value  may  yet  be  drawn ;  and  it  is  possible  therein  to 
trace  the  beginning  of  certain  tendencies,  which  were 
to  have  no  small  share  in  the  development  of  men's 
thought. 

The  earliest  important  personal  documents  of  the 
mystical  type  are  the  revelations  to  saints  and 
cloistered  persons  in  the  Middle  Ages,  which  precede, 
by  several  centuries,  those  confessions  of  the  Gottes- 
freunde,  whose  fragments  form  what  is  probably  the 
earliest  mystical  group.  These  revelations,  although 
submitting  to  all  the  influences  of  contagion  and  much 
affecting  one  another's  style,  lack  that  central  idea 
which  is  necessary  to  bind  a  group  together.  They 
concern  matters  of  varying  importance,  and  are  scat- 
tered throughout  the  countries  and  cloisters  of  Europe. 
In  most  cases  they  are  dictated  by  the  seer  to  a  scribe, 
or  monastic  clerk,  or  a  director,  who  writes  down  in 
labored  Latin  their  prophecies  and  visions  of  heaven 
and  of  hell.83 

Such  are  the  records  left  by  Gertrude  of  Eisleben 
and  Mechtilde,  by  Hildegarde  of  Bingen  and  her 
friend  Elizabeth  of  Schonau;  by  Brigitte  of  Sweden, 
Catherine  of  Bologna,  and  Franchise  Eomaine;  by 
Gerlac  Petersen,  the  anchoress  Juliana  of  Norwich, 
and  the  anonymous  monk  of  Evesham. 

Among  these,  that  of  Hildegarde  is  the  only  record 
which  contributes  detailed  personal  matter  of  any  real 
value.  This  extraordinary  woman  includes  much  of 
her  youthful  history,  and  is  particular  about  such  de- 
tails as  her  age  at  different  crises,  in  a  manner  un- 
known to  the  others.  Of  the  Gottesfreunde  records 
which  follow  and  are  intimately  connected  with  the 


368  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

revelations,  we  possess  but  few  full  documents, — the 
autobiographies  of  Merswin  and  Suso,  Tauler's  let- 
ters and  sermons,  the  journals  of  Margaret  and  Chris- 
tina Ebnerin.  These  are  sufficient  to  give  a  vivid 
picture  of  their  quaint  and  sensitive  piety ;  but  what- 
ever introspective  tendency  they  display  is  overborne 
by  the  desire  to  speak  of  things  revealed. 
1  The  vividness  with  which  these  long-ago  mystics 
describe  their  religious  experiences,  is  to  us,  to-day,  the 
most  striking  feature  of  their  records.  The  other 
world  appears  to  them  with  all  the  details  of  color  and 
form  that  may  be  suggested  by  their  mediaeval  feel- 
ing for  decoration.  Thus  Baptiste  Varani  describes 
Christ  as  a  handsome  youth,  dressed  in  white  and  gold, 
and  with  curly  hair,  and  Angela  da  Foligno  saw 
him  a  handsome  boy,  magnificently  adorned.84  Jesus 
seemed  like  his  "own  brother "  to  Ubertino  da  Casale, 
who  likewise  identified  himself  with  the  persons  and 
events  of  the  New  Testament.  Their  visions  are  per- 
sonal, objective,  and  picturesque,  to  a  degree  amazing 
and  naif ;  they  are  also,  as  Tylor 85  observes,  strikingly 
wanting  in  originality:  "The  stiff  Madonnas,  with 
their  crowns  and  petticoats,  still  transfer  themselves 
from  the  pictures  on  cottage  walls  to  appear  in  spirit- 
ual personality  to  peasant  visionaries,  as  the  saints 
who  stood  in  vision  before  the  ecstatic  monks  of  old 
were  to  be  known  by  their  conventional  pictorial  at- 
tributes. ' ' 86  \  The  reader  has  already  sufficient  war- 
rant for  the  application  of  the  above  passage,  in  the 
sections  of  this  book  devoted  to  the  description  of 
those  phenomena.  Some  of  the  more  vivid  strikingly 
confirm  the  imitative  tendencies  here  noticed.  Says 


MYSTICISM:  ITS  INTERPRETATION       369 

Mechtilde,  for  example:  "On  Esto  Mihi  Sunday  she 
heard  the  beloved  of  her  soul,  Jesus,  saying  to  her  in 
the  sweet  whisper  of  love,  '  Wilt  thou  abide  with  me  on 
the  mountain,  these  forty  days  and  nights  ?  '  And  the 
soul, '  Oh,  gladly,  my  Lord ! '  .  .  .  Then  he  showed  her 
a  high  mountain,  of  wondrous  greatness  .  .  .  having 
seven  steps  by  which  it  was  ascended,  and  seven  foun- 
tains. And,  taking  her  up,  He  came  to  the  first  step, 
which  was  the  step  of  humility  " ; 8r  and  so  on,  through 
a  long  vision  describing  the  ascent. 

Mr.  Edmund  Gardner  (from  whose  sympathetic 
translation  the  above  is  condensed)  remarks  on  its 
resemblance  to  the  Dantean  hill  of  Purgatory ;  but  in 
truth  this  analogy  of  a  mountain,  with  steps  up 
thereto,  is  made  use  of  by  the  mystics  with  zealous  and 
untiring  banality.  The  steps — whether  three,  or 
seven,  or  nine — are  to  be  read  of  in  Dionysius,88  in  the 
St.  Victors,  and  in  St.  Bonaventura,  while  they  are  re- 
iterated, with  but  trifling  variations,  in  the  revelations 
of  later  visionaries,  like  Angela  da  Foligno,  Juliana  of 
Norwich,  Teresa,  and  Maria  d'Agreda.  This  sheer, 
mechanical  repetition  of  an  idea,  or,  more  accurately, 
of  a  metaphor,  is  surely  unlike  the  fertility  of  genius, 
whose  touch  revivifies  the  outworn.  The  mechanical 
reiteration,  moreover,  is  not  confined  to  style  and 
image,  for  it  extends  to  the  things  seen,  as  well  as  to 
the  manner  of  telling  about  them.  Moreover,  the  con- 
tents of  these  revelations  differ  little — indeed,  surpris- 
ingly little — from  the  later  Methodist  or  Quaker 
examples.  The  sense  of  personality  is  hardly  keener, 
although  the  details  are  more  picturesque.  A  me- 
diaeval Catholic  case  is  not  apt  to  undergo  the 


370  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

same  pre-converted  progress,  his  whole  religious  life 
dates  rather  from  that  day  on  which  he  takes  the 
vows.  His  attitude  toward  fundamental  questions 
holds  an  assurance  which  the  Dissenter  could  never 
hope  to  feel.  Yet,  on  the  whole,  the  similarity  of 
these  instances  is  far  more  remarkable  than  the  diver- 
sity. The  fourteenth-century  nun  is  emotionally 
stirred  and  troubled  by  certain  symbols  of  her  faith, 
exactly  as  the  Quaker  is  moved  by  and  toward  the 
figures  of  his.  M.  M.  Alacoque  felt  a  piercing  flame 
at  the  thought  of  the  order  of  the  Visitation;  while 
Thomas  Laythe  fasted  for  a  fortnight  on  account  of 
11  weights  and  exercises"  which  the  idea  of  the  Quakers 
brought  upon  him.  John  Gratton  is  moved  "  toward 
a  people  poor  and  despised,  the  Lord's  own";  Carlo 
da  Sezze  was  especially  stirred  by  the  idea  of  the 
Sacred  Heart;  and  so  on.89 

What  differences  here  exist  result  largely  from  a 
totally  different  attitude  in  the  audiences  which  sur- 
round the  actors  in  the  drama.  The  entire  problem 
of  the  action  and  reaction  of  the  writer  and  his  pub- 
lic, of  the  actor  and  his  audience,  has  an  especial 
significance  in  regard  to  the  situation  of  the  mediaeval 
religious.  However  one  may  estimate  this  attitude,  he 
cannot  ignore  it:  whether  it  be  regarded  in  the  light 
of  faith  or  in  the  light  of  credulity,  it  becomes  an  im- 
portant factor  in  all  secluded  communities.  What- 
ever the  feeling  of  the  Church  at  large, — and  we  have 
seen  it  was  by  no  means  always  one  of  sympathy, — 
yet  the  mediaeval  mystic  played  his  part  before  an  au- 
dience generally  predisposed  to  belief.  To  what  ex- 
tent this  belief  stimulated  the  chief  performer  and 


MYSTICISM:  ITS  INTERPRETATION      371 

excited  him  to  further  efforts,  can  be  judged  when  it 
is  compared  with  the  very  different  attitude  existing 
to-day.  Kenan's  observation  that  miracle  is  condi- 
tioned on  the  credulity  of  the  witness,90  would  seem  to 
be  confirmed  whatever  the  conditions. 

A  recent  writer  comments  on  this  fact  in  a  few 
sentences  relating  to  instances  of  conversion  in 
prison ; 91  and  it  is  true  of  the  entire  world  to-day. 
Where  the  audience  used  to  be  benign,  now,  it  is  hos- 
tile ;  where  it  was  reverent,  now,  it  is  charged  with  sus- 
picion. The  line  of  the  norm  meanwhile  has  so  shifted 
that  what  seemed  health  to  the  thirteenth  century,  ap- 
pears disease  to  the  twentieth. 

Personal  opinion  as  to  the  value  of  this  change  may 
differ,  but  whether  one  believes  it  to  be  for  good  or 
ill,  one  cannot  deny  that  it  is  responsible  for  an  altera- 
tion of  tone  in  the  literature  of  religious  experience, 
and  also,  no  doubt,  for  a  certain  loss  in  authority  and 
in  distinction.92  Whereas  he  once  looked  down  upon 
an  awestricken  world,  the  mystic  now  must  look  ask- 
ance, often  defiantly,  upon  a  jeering  and  a  sceptical 
world.  This  lack  of  sympathy  has  survived  even  the 
emotional  reactions  of  the  last  quarter-century,  and 
is  now  common  to  the  majority  of  people,  irrespec- 
tive of  creed.  Whether  to-day  a  man's  belief  be 
Catholic,  Protestant,  or  rationalistic,  he  will  agree 
to  regard  with  extreme  suspicion  any  person  laying 
claim  to  supernatural  revelations  or  experiences.  It 
thus  becomes  all  the  more  necessary  to  handle  the  data 
of  mysticism  with  caution  and  with  sympathy,  since 
the  easiest  manner  to  dispose  of  it,  is  thought  by 
many  to  be  the  medical-materialistic.  At  no  time  is 


372  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

it  possible  without  strain  to  hold  the  mind  open  to 
what  these  mystics  think;  indeed,  as  was  said  at  the 
outset  of  this  enquiry,  the  difficulties  in  respect  to 
theory  and  in  respect  to  documents,  are  not  less  when 
we  come  to  the  data.  Yet  these  data  must  be  ex- 
amined if  the  reader  is  to  lay  any  foundation  in  his 
own  mind  for  a  conclusion  on  the  subject.  Most  of 
the  psychological  phenomena  attendant  upon  the  via 
mystica,  have  already  received  attention  in  the  sec- 
tion upon  conversion,  where  they  are  grouped  in  order 
to  elucidate  that  crisis.  It  has  been  made  plain  that 
in  an  ardent  and  sensitive  person,  such  a  crisis  is  in- 
variably, if  but  temporarily,  mystical.  In  the  life 
of '  the  true  mystic,  however,  these  phenomena  de- 
velop, showing  a  progression  which  must  be  taken 
into  account,  and  which  has  a  typical  and  effective 
result  upon  the  personality  of  the  subject.  Most 
studies  of  mysticism,  whatever  their  theory,  have  con- 
fined themselves  to  the  higher  examples  of  this  type, 
using  them,  as  Von  Hiigel  does  Catherine  of  Genoa, 
both  as  a  text  and  as  a  commentary.  For  this  reason 
they  have  failed  to  draw  certain  highly  obvious  in- 
ferences. 

It  is  impossible,  of  course,  even  for  these  writers  to 
overlook  the  more  striking  conclusions  reached  by 
modern  science ;  and  thus  Miss  Underhill 93  makes  note 
of  the  self-hypnotization  of  Jacob  Boehme  "  gazing 
fixedly  at  the  pewter  dish  reflected  in  the  sunshine," 
and  Loyola,  seated  in  meditation  before  running 
water ; — but  she  makes  no  real  study,  no  thorough  in- 
vestigation of  the  instances  of  "misinterpreted  ob- 
servation." In  truth,  any  such  study  would  serve  to 


MYSTICISM:  ITS  INTERPRETATION       373 

create  insuperable  difficulties  in  the  way  of  founding 
and  maintaining  any  philosophical  theory  of  mysti- 
cism. 

There  is  nothing  in  the  entire  field  of  religious  in- 
vestigation more  startling  than  the  comparisons  which 
are  furnished  by  savages,  in  regard  to  mystical  phe- 
nomena. They  will  give  pause  even  to  the  most  con- 
ventional mind.  If  he  reads  that  "the  Zulu  convert 
in  a  mood  of  heightened  religious  excitement  will  be- 
hold a  snake  with  great  eyes  and  very  fearful;  a 
leopard  creeping  stealthily;  an  enemy  approaching 
with  his  long  assegai";94  what  comparisons  are  sug- 
gested by  the  testimony  of  Loyola,  or  Dr.  Pordage,  or 
Mme.  Guyon,  or  the  Mere  Jeanne  des  Anges  ?  ' '  Thus 
the  visionary  temptations  of  the  Hindu  ascetic  and  the 
mediaeval  saint  are  happening  in  our  own  day."93 
We  read  that  the  North  American  Indian  fasts  to 
produce  a  similar  effect,  whether  by  vision  or  dream; 
and  according  to  the  character  of  the  vision  makes  his 
various  decisions.  Some  of  these  decisions  relate  to 
his  private  affairs,  and  some  to  the  ceremonies  then 
in.  progress  and  which  the  fast  has  preceded.96  /  The 
case  of  Catherine  "Wabose,  the  Indian  already  noted, 
is  a  vivid  confirmation  of  these  instances.  She  says 
particularly  that  during  her  fast  and  vigil  she  kept  ex- 
pecting visions,  and  it  was  not  long  ere  she  was  grati- 
fied^" Any  state  of  the  body,"  observes  the  physiolo- 
gist Miiller,97  "expected  with  a  certain  confidence,  is 
prone  to  ensue";  and  this  follows  not  only  in  cases  of 
savage  religion,  but  even  where  religion  itself  is  not 
the  superinducing  cause. 

John  Beaumont98  quotes  from  Dion  Cassius  who 


374  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

avows  that  lie  had  been  divinely  commanded  to  write 
his  history.  Beaumont  himself  had  visions  and  heard 
tinkling  bells,  but  no  religious  ideas  attached  to  them. 
Herbert  of  Cherbury"  received  a  sign,  on  the  occa- 
sion of  completing  a  book  whose  tenets  were  considered 
dangerous  to  Christianity.  Philo  Judaeus  similarly 
alludes  to  his  Daemon;  and  Cardan  is  equally  plain. 
Louis  Claude  de  St.  Martin  associated  his  phenomenal 
revelations  with  philosophy.  Less  harmless  a  person, 
Henri  Charles,  the  murderer  of  Mme.  Gey,  at  Sidi- 
Mabrouk,  in  Algeria,  observes  that,  after  certain  up- 
heavals in  his  faith,  he  turned  extremely  mystical  and 
had  visions  of  trees  and  of  peasants '  cottages.  * '  I  had 
begun/'  he  writes  in  his  "Memorial,"  "to  love  the  su- 
pernatural." 10°  These  cases  are  merely  mentioned  by 
way  of  corrective  to  the  general  impression,  fostered 
by  so  many  of  the  theories  now  in  vogue,  that  mysti- 
cism and  mystical  phenomena  in  themselves  argue  a 
high  degree  of  religious  or  of  moral  development.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  nothing  could  be  further  from  the 
truth,  as  is  shown  by  such  narratives  as  that  of  Marie 
de  Sains,  or  the  Mere  Jeanne  des  Anges,  or  any  others 
among  the  confessions  of  diabolical  possession.  Here 
the  whole  range  of  mystical  experiences  is  seen  dis- 
played, but  with  a  contrary  significance.  Visions, 
voices,  conversations  with  the  demon,  "diabolical"  in- 
stead of  "divine"  espousals;  such  a  duplication  wor- 
ried the  mediaeval  conscience  exceedingly.  It  might 
worry  ours  if  the  student  to-day  were  really  disposed, 
as  the  theorists  desire,  to  look  upon  this  condition  as 
an  "ideally  normal"  state. 

Instead,  the  facts  dispose  him  to  look  upon  it  as  a 


MYSTICISM:  ITS  INTERPRETATION       375 

very  artificial  and  abnormal  condition.  The  facts 
show  that  a  predisposition  to  mysticism  does  not  in- 
volve either  mental  ability,  normal  excellence,  or  even 
religious  motives.  Religious  emotion  may,  indeed,  be 
the  most  frequent  starting-point  for  the  mystical  phe- 
nomena ;  but  it  is  by  no  means  a  necessary  antecedent, 
and  the  state  takes  its  rise,  in  some  cases,  from  purely 
physical  and  nervous  conditions  (such  as  occur  during 
puberty),  and  may  receive  no  religious  color  until 
later.  It  may  be  primarily  religious;  and  it  may  be 
secondarily  religious ;  but  there  is  no  valid  burden  of 
proof,  if  one  examines  the  facts  in  toto,  that  it  is 
necessarily  religious  at  all. 

"When  the  body  is  systematically  weakened  by  fast- 
ings and  vigils/'  remarks  Dr.  Lea,101  "spiritual  ex- 
altation is  readily  induced  in  certain  natures  by  con- 
tinued mental  concentration."  And  the  cause  may 
be  what  the  human  imagination  wills. 

The  section  on  "Conversion"  furnishes  a  large  num- 
ber of  examples  of  the  forms  which  this  spiritual  ex- 
altation may  assume.  These  forms  do  not  differ 
among  mystics,  but  the  progression  of  the  mystical 
state  is  important  and  must  not  be  forgotten.  The 
sudden  and  transient  outbreak  of  psychological  phe- 
nomena superinduced  in  most  persons  by  the  excite- 
ment and  strain  of  conversion,  is  very  different  from 
that  progress  along  the  way,  which  distinguishes  the 
saints  and  the  great  contemplatives.  Moreover,  this 
progression  presents  some  suggestive  features.  For 
instance,  Hildegarde  of  Bingen,  who  began  to  see 
visions  and  great  lights  at  three  years  old,  and  con- 
tinued to  do  so  until  she  was  seventy,  penetratingly; 


376  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

observes  the  difference  between  the  mild  beauty  of  the 
earlier  visions,  concealed  by  her  and  taken  symbolic- 
ally, and  the  bizarre  prophecies  which,  an  old  woman, 
she  writes  to  Bernard  of  Clairvaux.  With  Suso,  the 
progression  is  even  more  strikingly  and  vividly  de- 
picted; and  it  was  also  in  the  experience  of  Jerome. 
This  passing  from  visionary  experiences  of  a  helpful 
to  those  of  a  horrible  kind,  may  be  noted  also  in 
Ghiibert,  Othloh,  Antoinette  Bourignon,  Angelique 
Arnauld,  de  Marsay  and  Mme.  Guyon — it  is  an  espe- 
cial characteristic  of  the  earlier  mysticism.  Angela 
da  Foligno  became  a  recluse  after  the  death  of  her 
husband  and  sons.  At  the  "Fourteenth  Spiritual 
Step,"  her  visions,  sparing  before,  grew  frequent,  and 
were  supplemented  by  dreams.  Her  bodily  suffer- 
ings and  soul-torments  were  incessant  thereafter.102 
Jeanne  de  St.  M.  Deleloe  at  first  revolted  against  con- 
vent-rule. Soon,  however,  she  came  to  love  solitude 
'and  silence ;  and  then  began  to  hear  interior  words,  to 
be  comforted  by  the  Lord,  who  showed  her  the  mys- 
teries of  the  Faith.  Her  health,  never  strong,  suffered 
from  the  seclusion ;  yet  she  thinks  she  would  have  re- 
mained humbly  happy  in  the  favor  of  God,  but  for  the 
doubts  of  her  superior,  who  tries  to  mortify  and  humil- 
iate her  in  every  way.  Up  to  this  time,  her  visions 
had  been  of  a  gentle  and  reassuring  character,  but  un- 
der the  suspicion  of  presumption  they  became  painful, 
horrible,  and  perverse.  This  influence  of  suggestion 
by  others  upon  the  character  of  the  psychological 
phenomena  of  the  mystics,  has  rarely  been  pointed  out 
by  students  of  these  manifestations.  The  same  effect 
is  to  be  noted  in  the  "Apology"  of  Dame  Gertrude 


MYSTICISM:  ITS  INTERPRETATION       377 

More,  who  was  "perplexed  and  tossed  with  a  thou- 
sand imaginations  and  overwhelmed  with  miseries — 
yea,  almost  desperate" — from  the  unwise  advice  of 
her  director.  She  went  to  another  priest,  ' '  and  found 
myself  in  fifteen  days  so  quieted  that  I  wondered." 
The  effect  of  the  hysterical  Pere  Surin  upon  the 
hysterical  Soeur  Jeanne  des  Anges,  is  a  striking  ex- 
ample of  this  personal  influence.  It  is  strongly  sug- 
gested, also,  in  the  documents  left  by  the  Gottes- 
freunde,  in  Germany,  who  vitally  affected  one  an- 
other.103 According  to  the  doubt,  however,  as  to 
whether  the  mysterious  Friend  of  God  in  the  Ober- 
land,  who  in  turn  harrowed  the  souls  of  John  Tauler, 
Eulman  Merswin,  Margaret  Ebnerin,  and  others,  was 
a  real  person  or  a  symbolical  figure,  this  case  cannot 
be  given  as  conclusive.  Richard  Rolle,  the  hermit  of 
Hampole,  says  of  the  spiritual  life, ' '  the  process  truly, 
as  I  will  show,  solitary  life  behooves  me  to  preach." 
Maligned  by  slanderers  after  his  conversion,  he  wan- 
dered from  cell  to  cell  in  search  of  peace,  always  hear- 
ing heavenly  music  and  saying  quaintly:  "Forsooth 
my  thought  continually  to  mirth  of  song  was  changed. ' ' 
This  expression  by  E-olle  of  the  mystical  life  in  terms 
of  music,  is  original  with  him  and  very  lovely :  it  seems 
to  have  lasted  all  his  days  and  to  have  been  the  main 
form  in  which  the  love  of  God  took  meaning  to  his 
mind.  Rolle  gives  us  no  further  details ;  but  a  similar 
progressive  spiritual  experience  befell  Jonathan  Ed- 
wards. The  nun  Veronique  Giuliani  does  not  give  the 
starting-point  of  her  progressive  mysticism.  Christ 
crowned  her  with  thorns  during  prayer,  and  the  pain 
remained  about  her  brows,  more  or  less,  for  twelve 


378  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

years.  In  another  vision  the  Child  pierces  her  with  a 
golden  staff,  and,  touching  the  place  with  her  handker- 
chief, she  sees  it  spotted  with  blood.  Mary  of  the 
Angels,  Carmelite,  had  a  deep  sense  of  piety,  but  again 
personal  influence,  in  the  shape  of  a  kind,  sensible 
priest,  curbed  her  childish  morbidity.  It  is  unfortu- 
nately suggested  to  her  that  the  grief  which  she  felt  on 
parting  with  her  family  to  take  the  veil  (she  is  only 
fifteen),  is  the  Devil's  work;  thus  leading  her  to  begin 
the  practice  of  dreadful  austerities,  which  plunge  her 
into  gloom  and  despair.  The  reader's  attention  has 
already  been  called  to  an  idiosyncrasy  of  the  Evil 
One  that  the  more  one  noticed  his  attacks,  the  more 
furious  they  grew ;  and  that  in  the  few — painfully  few 
— cases  in  which  they  were  ignored  altogether,  they 
vanished  with  a  remarkable  rapidity.104  Mary  of  the 
Angels  noticed  them  even  at  their  tentative  stage ;  the 
assaults  grew  violent  and  well-nigh  physical,  tak- 
ing chiefly  the  form  of  giving  her  hideous,  impure 
thoughts,  while  devils  annoyed  her  when  at  prayer 
by  their  cries  and  howls.  In  the  more  modern  case  of 
another  Carmelite,  Therese  of  the  Holy  Child,  the 
confessant  was  one  of  five  sisters  who  all  became  nuns. 
Her  innocence  was  so  great  that  on  taking  the  veil  at 
eighteen,  her  director  told  her  she  had  never  mortally 
sinned.  Yet  a  terrible  reaction  of  gloom  at  once  be- 
set her.  Her  death,  at  twenty-five,  of  consumption, 
put  a  period  to  what  was  a  nearly  perfect  type  of  the 
mystical  progress.  A  longer  development  in  A.  C. 
Emmerich  carries  us  through  all  the  childish  visions 
(at  six  she  beheld  the  Creation  and  the  fall  of  man) 
into  the  later  periods  of  horror,  when  she  could  not  eat, 


MYSTICISM:  ITS  INTERPRETATION       379 

and  during  which  she  developed  the  stigmata.  Her 
visions  and  ecstasies  were  frequent,  much  resembling 
those  of  Maria  d'Agreda.  In  her  last  illness  we  have 
read  how  her  complacency  passed  the  bounds,  so  that 
even  her  director  had  his  doubts.  The  famous  abbess 
whom  she  resembled  gives  full  account  of  her  own  mys- 
tical progress,  describing  how  phantoms  beset  her  in  the 
shape  of  wild  beasts ;  how  she  suffered  during  prayer, 
and  how  horror  drove  her  nearly  into  open  blasphemy. 
"A  light  soft  and  clear "  she  declared  accompanied 
her  visions,  wherein  she  beheld  the  life  of  the  Virgin 
Mary.  She  especially  observes  that  writing  calmed 
her.  The  nun  Osanna  Andreasi  (who,  by  the  way, 
was  thought  by  her  parents  to  be  epileptic)  tells  us 
that  at  six  years  old  the  Child  Jesus  appeared  to  her, 
and,  describing  to  her  his  love  for  children,  avowed 
that  he  would  teach  her  how  to  become  a  saint.  Later, 
an  angel  led  her  to  behold  the  universe  under  the  law 
of  God.  A  modern  case,  Mary  of  the  Divine  Heart, 
began  by  holding  intimate  talks  with  Christ,  "all 
interior";  but  these  were  soon  followed  by  the  cus- 
tomary dreadful  glooms  and  violent  periods  of  de- 
spair. Illustrations  drawn  from  English  dissenters 
further  elucidate  the  progressive  nature  of  the  mysti- 
cal process.  Joanna  Southcott,  who  began  with  start- 
ling dreams  and  visions,  rapidly  came  to  closer  grips 
with  Satan ;  and  in  one  conflict,  lasting  for  ten  days, 
she  was  beaten  black  and  blue.  The  same  progres- 
sion is  found  in  the  Mormon  examples.  Joseph  Smith, 
at  the  first,  claimed  only  to  be  a  mouthpiece,  a  mere 
receiver  of  revelations;  but  he  is  soon  a  seer,  and  a 
crystal-gazer,  an  occultist,  faith-healer,  and  a  caster-out 


380  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

of  devils.  Those  fights  with  the  Devil  told  by  Mormon 
elders,  read  much  like  Joanna  Southcott's,  Guibert  de 
Nogent's  mother's,  or  the  abbot  Othloh's.  In  Joan- 
na 's  case  ill-health  and  hysteria  seem  a  definite  cause ; 
while  the  example  of  "misinterpreted  observation," 
i.  e.,  dropsy  instead  of  divine  pregnancy  which  ended 
both  her  Divine  claims  and  her  life,  would  be  gro- 
tesque were  it  not  so  pathetic. 

Alice  Hayes,  Quaker,  resembles  Mme.  Guyon  in  her 
interior  progress  and  her  outward  persecutions;  and 
Joseph  Hoag,  also  a  Friend,  experienced  as  many 
visions,  reactions,  and  progressive  mystical  phenomena 
as  ever  did  Suso  or  Teresa.  Other  marked  instances 
of  Quaker  mysticism  may  be  found  in  the  cases  of 
Margaret  Lucas  and  of  Samuel  Neale.  The  custom 
of  the  Friends,  to  turn  immediately  upon  conversion 
to  a  career  of  active  ministry  and  service,  makes  the 
mystical  examples  rarer  than  among  the  mediaeval  her- 
mits or  the  monastic  cases.  Yet  no  one  can  read 
their  testimonies  without  being  convinced  that  the 
progressive  condition  is  identical,  though  it  is  one 
which  needs  the  seclusion,  the  asceticism,  and  the 
regimen  of  the  cloister,  to  develop  fully  and  charac- 
teristically. 

To  pass  final  judgment  upon  the  facts,  may  be 
wisely  left  to  the  open-minded  student  of  human 
nature.  The  review  of  these  testimonies  should  give 
him  at  least  a  foundation  for  his  decision.  He  may 
not  be  able  to  formulate  any  explanation  of  the  state 
of  mystical  progression,  whose  votaries  have  for  so 
many  centuries  played  their  parts  before  the  audi- 
ence of  the  world.  Mysticism  may  speak  to  him  of 


MYSTICISM:  ITS  INTERPRETATION       381 

various  influences ;  being  a  term  so  wide  that  he  may 
not  desire  to  restrict  it  to  the  narrow  field  of  per- 
sonal experience.  It  may  mean  to  him  more  what  it 
meant  to  Augustin  or  to  Amiel — the  delicate  response 
of  human  emotion  to  the  appeal  of  the  vastness  and 
mystery  of  the  universe.  "I  will  pass  then  beyond 
this  power  of  my  nature  also,  rising  by  degrees  unto 
Him  who  made  me.  .  .  .  See,  I  am  mounting  up 
through  my  mind  towards  thee  who  abidest  above 
me  .  .  . ' ' 105  is  the  cry  of  the  genius-mystic. 

To-day,  one  is  apt  to  forget  that  it  is  genius  which 
feels  this  exultation.  The  judgment  of  the  reader  here 
is  asked  simply  on  the  one  limited  and  much-misun- 
derstood field  of  personal  experience,  and  upon  the 
theorists  thereof.  It  is  for  him  to  say,  when  he  looks 
at  A.  C.  Emmerich,  M.  de  Marsay,  Antoinette  Bourig- 
non,  whether  "the  mono-ideism  of  the  mystic  is  ra- 
tional. ' '  Such  examples  as  Pere  Surin,  Joanna  South- 
cott,  Joseph  Smith,  Maria  d'Agreda,  Osanna  Andreasi, 
M.  M.  Alacoque,  Mere  Jeanne  des  Anges,  Therese  of 
the  Holy  Child,  may  assist  him  to  decide  whether  it  is 
true  that  "the  mystics  are  almost  always  persons  of 
robust  intelligence  and  marked  practical  and  intellec- 
tual ability."  Survey  of  the  records  as  they  stand 
may  lead  him  to  question  further  whether  the  mys- 
tical way  is,  truly,  the  way  of  higher  life,  and  if  that 
state  be  in  truth  a  state  of  ideally  normal  develop- 
ment. To  readjust  his  attitude,  he  has  only  to  con- 
sider such  undeniable  facts  as  the  lack  of  creation 
from  these  so-called  creators;  the  paucity  of  truth 
obtained  for  the  world  by  those  who  claim  that  they 
reach  it  at  its  Divine  source;  and  the  dissociation 


382  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

of  ethical  standards  from  religious  standards  which 
is  the  fundamental  characteristic  of  mysticism. 
Further,  it  is  made  plain  that  the  world's  reverence 
for  these  mystics  has  been  due  primarily  to  centuries 
of  misinterpreted  observation  of  the  phenomena  of 
mysticism.  Once  understood,  how  changed  perforce 
would  be  the  conclusions  of  the  very  subject  himself ! 
Would  Robert  Blair,106  saintly  man,  have  considered 
himself  divinely  converted  if  he  had  realized  the 
strength  of  that  wine  in  the  milk-posset  ?  Reason  has 
caused  from  time  to  time  strong  reactions  in  favor  of 
such  understanding;  but  the  natural  inclination  to 
consider  a  thing  important  in  proportion  as  it  appears 
obscure,  has  prevented  such  reaction  from  being  car- 
ried sufficiently  far.  At  the  moment,  the  "will  to  be- 
lieve ' '  that  this  state,  since  it  exists,  is  one  of  value  and 
meaning,  is  very  strong.  A  mystical  wind  is  just  now 
sweeping  over  the  fields  of  thought.  Many  follow  the 
example  of  the  director  of  Mary  of  the  Angels  and 
cure  by  command.  It  were  well,  in  view  of  prevalent 
ideas,  that  we  examine  and  reexamine — not  the  gener- 
alizations, but  the  facts,  the  specific,  particular,  and 
concrete  facts,  on  which  all  valid  theory  must  neces- 
sarily be  based.  The  verdict,  then,  when  soberly  and 
thoughtfully  rendered,  will  have  the  weight  of  an  in- 
duction. 

It  is  time  to  speak  a  word  of  warning  in  the  ears  of 
those  to  whom  criticism  and  history  afford  unfamiliar 
methods  by  which  to  achieve  results.  This  book  is 
not  one  of  philosophical  speculation,  nor  of  metaphysi- 
cal theory.  Neither  is  it  a  psychological  study  of  re- 


MYSTICISM:  ITS  INTERPRETATION       3S3 

ligious  experience,  so  much  as  an  examination  of  the 
material  available  for  such  a  study.  Rather  it  is  an 
attempt,  through  classification  and  analysis,  to  de- 
termine what  the  data  in  the  case  of  individual  reli- 
gious experience  really  are,  and  what,  if  any,  conclu- 
sions may  be  logically  drawn  from  them.  For,  if  no 
logical  conclusions  may  be  so  drawn,  it  is  at  least  a 
gain  in  honesty  to  face  and  acknowledge  the  fact. 
This  acknowledgment  in  itself  will  have  a  quality  of 
novelty,  since  it  has  been  almost  a  tradition  to  take 
conclusions  on  this  subject  for  granted.  Very  modern, 
indeed,  is  the  student  who  pauses  to  ask  if  a  valid 
induction  can  be  made  on  the  subject  of  religion. 
More  recent  still  is  he  who  endeavors  to  bring  the 
chaotic  and  heterogeneous  material  furnished  by 
antiquity,  by  history,  and  by  literature  within  the 
reach  of  scientific  method.  Rightly  or  wrongly,  men 
have  pointed  to  these  instances,  and  made  use  of  them 
in  order  to  reach  certain  conclusions,  ever  since  Job's 
friends  gathered  to  condole  with  him  on  his  many 
misfortunes.  The  experiences  themselves  have  re- 
mained little  altered  by  the  centuries;  but  our  inter- 
pretation of  them  changes  almost  with  each  generation. 
Maudsley  107  has  made  note  of  the  indisputable  fact 
that  truth  obtained  through  ecstasy  always  resulted  in 
confirming  the  views  of  the  subject.  If  a  Christian, 
his  " reason-transcending  truths"  were  always  Chris- 
tian in  their  significance ;  but  if  a  Brahman,  they  were 
Brahman.  Thus,  an  Unitarian's  visions  differed  from 
those  of  a  Trinitarian,  Teresa's  from  S wedenborg 's, 
and  so  forth.  The  process  must  be  limited  and  gov- 
erned by  the  predisposition  of  the  subject's  mind, 


384  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

which  does  not  affect  the  simple  essential  nature  and 
identity  of  these  experiences.  It  is  fair  to  use  the 
Book  of  Job  as  a  case  in  point,  even  though  we  know 
it  to  be  complex  in  form,  and  often  theological  in 
intention.  What  happened  to  Eliphaz  the  Temanite, 
seven  hundred  years  before  Christ,  seems  perfectly 
familiar  to  us  to-day,  yet  we  do  not  draw  the  same 
conclusions  which  he  drew  from  that  occurrence. 

"In  thoughts  from  the  vision  of  the  night,  when  deep  sleep 

falleth  on  men, 
Fear  came  upon  me,  and  trembling,  which  made  all  my 

bones  to  shake. 
Then  a  spirit  passed  before  my  face;  and  the  hair  of  my 

flesh  stood  up; 

It  stood  still,  but  I  could  not  discern  the  form  thereof; 
An  image  was  before  mine  eyes,  there  was  silence,  and  I 

heard  a  voice,  saying, 
Shall  mortal  man  be  more  just  than  God? 
Shall  a  man  be  more  pure  than  his  maker?"  ios 

This  revelation  forms  the  starting-point  of  a  doc- 
trine of  consolation,  placed  by  the  speaker  in  the 
mouth  of  the  vision  for  the  sake  of  its  greater  au- 
thority. It  is  nearly  twenty-five  hundred  years  since 
the  words  were  written  which  are  put  into  the  mouth 
of  this  character,  yet  their  accent  of  vivid  personal 
experience  is  the  accent  of  yesterday.  Keen  and 
full  of  terror  was  that  moment  to  the  writer,  were 
he  really  Eliphaz  or  another.  But  the  instant  he 
turns  from  describing  the  vision,  and  his  feelings  when 
it  befell,  to  repeating  the  words  he  thinks  it  said,  and 
the  doctrinal  conclusion  he  believes  it  reached, — that 
instant  our  conviction  ceases.  We  perceive  an  intel- 


MYSTICISM:  ITS  INTERPRETATION       385 

lectual  idea  superimposed  on  an  emotional  experience ; 
and  we  recognize  therein  a  common  fallacy  of  human 
reasoning.  For,  to  rely  on  that  fundamental  law,  the 
identity  of  our  common  nature,  and  on  all  the  valid 
records  of  psychological  experience,  does  not  mean 
that  we  are  to  accept  the  conclusions  of  the  subjects  as 
we  accept  their  data.  It  means,  in  fact,  just  the  con- 
trary; for  their  conclusions  tend  to  be  wrong,  if  for 
no  other  reason  than  because  the  experience  is  their 
own.  We  find  them,  for  instance,  attributing  to  the 
revelation  their  own  ideas  of  intellectual  quality  subtly 
elaborated.  The  mind  of  Eliphaz  conceived  a  certain 
doctrine,  the  imagination  of  Eliphaz  beheld  a  vision — 
and  the  two  are  by  him  linked  together  without  hesita- 
tion. A  similar  elaboration  is  to  be  observed  in  the 
case  of  Paul ; 109  who  asked,  in  his  first  narrative, 
"What  shall  I  do,  Lord?  And  the  Lord  said  unto 
me,  Arise,  and  go  into  Damascus ;  and  there  it  shall  be 
told  thee  of  all  things  which  are  appointed  for  thee  to 
do."  This  is  a  simple  and  direct  command;  but  in 
the  second  narrative  observe  how  it  becomes  elabo- 
rated and  detailed. 

"But  rise,  and  stand  upon  thy  feet:  for  I  have 
appeared  unto  thee  for  this  purpose,  to  make  thee  a 
minister  and  a  witness  both  of  these  things  which 
thou  hast  seen,  and  of  those  things  in  the  which  I  will 
appear  unto  thee ; 

"Delivering  thee  from  the  people,  and  from  the 
Gentiles,  unto  whom  now  I  send  thee, 

"To  open  their  eyes,  and  to  turn  them  from  dark- 
ness to  light,  and  from  the  power  of  Satan  unto  God, 
that  they  may  receive  forgiveness  of  sins,  and  inherit- 


386  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

ance  among  them  which  are  sanctified  by  faith  that 
is  in  me."110 

In  this  speech  the  Lord  not  only  seems  to  tell  Paul 
why  he  appeared  to  him  and  that  he  will  reappear, 
but  also  describes  what  Paul  must  do,  and  what  the 
Gentiles  are  going  to  do,  along  the  line  of  certain  doc- 
trines notably  Pauline.  Far  easier  were  it  to  accept 
Kenan's  explanation  of  the  ophthalmia  and  the  thun- 
derstorm, than  to  accept  Paul's  inference  as  to  the 
full,  doctrinal  meaning  of  his  vision.  We  feel  that 
he  simply  places  his  own  doctrines  in  the  vision's 
mouth,  just  as  did  Eliphaz,  and  drew  similar  quite 
unwarranted  conclusions  from  the  experience.  A 
cruder  case  of  this  tendency  is  shown  by  Joseph  Smith, 
whose  visionary  revelations,  first  wholly  general  and 
spiritual,  become  progressively  detailed  according  to 
his  particular  needs.111 

Misinterpreted  observation  is  frequently  responsible 
for  erroneous  inferences  of  this  kind.  It  surprises  us 
to-day  to  read  Jonathan  Edwards's  naif  remark,  that, 
during  the  Great  Awakening,  "God  has  in  many  re- 
spects gone  much  beyond  his  usual  and  ordinary 
way. ' ' 112  Edwards  gives  also  an  instance  of  Satan 's 
raging,  and  God's  withdrawal,  in  the  suicide  of  a 
worthy  person,  "who,"  he  then  adds,  "was  of  a  fam- 
ily that  are  exceedingly  prone  to  the  disease  of  mel- 
ancholy, and  his  mother  was  killed  with  it. ' ' 113  The 
pages  of  this  book  have  already  been  crowded  with 
similar  minor  misinterpretations.  Blair's  ecstasy  fol- 
lowing the  milk-posset,114  and  John  Conran's  conver- 
sion after  the  "sweet  liquor  called  shrub"  11B  are  sin- 
cere examples.  Colonel  Gardiner's  vision,  following 


MYSTICISM:  ITS  INTERPRETATION       387 

the  fall  from  his  horse,  is  evidently  another.  Various 
saintly  and  cloistered  women  draw  what  seems  to  our 
minds  unwarranted  conclusions  on  the  subject  of  their 
relations  toward  God;  and  the  reader's  own  experi- 
ence will  furnish  him  with  other  instances.  It  must 
not  be  forgotten  that  Luther  thought  his  "  bright  vi- 
sion" to  be  the  Devil's  work. 

To  suspect  the  conclusion,  while  respecting  the  in- 
formation of  the  subject,  becomes  a  necessary  canon 
for  this  study.  Man  is  never  more  egotistical  than 
when  under  the  stress  of  a  religious  upheaval.  The 
disorganized  Ego  tends  to  force  itself  perpetually 
upon  the  attention,  just  as  a  disorganized  digestion 
would.  A  man  cannot  forget  himself ;  and  in  propor- 
tion as  he  becomes  important  to  himself,  he  becomes 
important  (in  his  own  mind)  to  the  powers  of  Good 
and  Evil,  to  Satan  and  to  God.  Each  narrative  must 
be  sifted  of  this  element  and  the  bare  occurrences  sub- 
tracted, before  they  can  be  profitably  used  as  mat- 
ter of  comparison.  In  the  proper  interpretation  of 
these  experiences  lies  all  their  validity  for  us.  Then, 
if  we  are  not  to  accept  the  subject's  inference  as  to 
his  own  magnitude  in  the  sight  of  God,  if  the  facts 
seem  not  to  warrant  us  in  accepting  the  verdict  of 
the  critic  who  would  class  him  with  genius, — what 
conclusion  are  we  to  reach?  Must  we  be  forced  to 
take  the  attitude  of  the  medical-materialist — and 
finally  dispose  of  the  whole  matter  by  shifting  it  to 
the  realm  of  pathology?  Must  we  hereafter  think  of 
Paul  as  an  epileptoid,  and  of  Teresa  as  an  hysterical  ? 
Must  we  set  them  in  the  same  class  as  Joseph  Smith 
and  Joanna  Southcott? 


388  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

It  were  useless  to  deny  that  the  French  school  has 
much  weight  on  its  side — and  to  many  the  solution 
of  disease  appears  the  simplest  solution.116  The  ar- 
guments from  hysteria,  the  arguments  from  insanity, 
tend  to  develop  striking  analogies  in  certain  directions, 
and  some  of  our  cases  would  seem  to  come  very  close 
to  them.  But  here  again  it  must  not  be  forgotten, 
that  things  which  are  equal  to  the  same  thing  are  equal 
to  each  other.  "Were  our  cases  all  Pere  Surins  or 
Jeannes  des  Anges,  or  Sainte-Chantals,  or  John 
Crooks,  or  M.  M.  Alacoques  or  Joseph  Smiths,  we 
could  hardly  escape  the  reasoning  of  the  medical- 
materialist.  The  point  is  that  they  are  not.  The  same 
differences  and  difficulties  of  degree  obtain  here. 
«Just  so  long  as  one  can  point  to  Augustin,  to  Paul,  to 
Teresa,  to  Wesley,  to  Loyola,  one  cannot  in  justice 
nor  in  common  sense  set  down  the  forces  which  under- 
lay their  religious  experience  to  the  manifestation  of 
disease.  On  the  contrary,  just  so  long  as  one  can 
point  to  the  many  contemplatives  of  the  type  of  Maria 
d'Agreda,  or  Joanna  Southcott,  one  cannot  in  jus- 
tice nor  in  common  sense  set  down  the  forces  which 
underlay  their  religious  experience  to  the  manifes- 
tation of  genius,  or  to  an  " ideally  normal"  develop- 
ment. The  one  link  which  binds  these  dissimilar 
personalities  is  the  presence  of  this  religious  mani- 
festation. That  they  hold  this  experience  in  common 
over  the  centuries,  should,  of  course,  be  a  vitally  sug- 
gestive fact  for  the  theorist,  yet  it  must  not  cause  him 
to  rush  into  too-hasty  generalization. 

The  tendency  of  the  modern  student  to  use  only  the 
more  striking  instances  and  individualities  in  support 


MYSTICISM:  ITS  INTERPRETATION       389 

of  his  special  tenets,  has  been  largely  responsible  for 
his  attitude.  Such  an  one  founds  a  whole  theory  of 
mysticism,  for  instance,  in  two  volumes,  upon  the 
single  case  of  Catherine  of  Genoa ; 117  and  it  is,  to 
our  thinking,  exactly  as  if  he  wrote  of  the  elephant, 
and  confined  his  observations  to  the  King  of  Burmah's 
celebrated  cream-colored  specimen;  or  as  if  he  based 
his  study  of  twins  exclusively  upon  the  pair  known  as 
the  Siamese.  It  is  in  the  study  of  the  mean,  rather 
than  in  that  of  the  extremes,  that  the  truth  will  be 
found  to  lie ;  and  this  is  even  more  exactly  the  case  in 
regard  to  an  investigation  which  deals  with  human 
beings. 

Yet  the  reader  is  standing  ready  to  remind  us  that 
what  is  not  health  must  be  disease,  and  vice  versa. 
Perhaps;  so  long  as  we  insist  on  applying  terms  of 
this  character  to  the  subject  rather  than  those  more 
flexible.  There  are  conditions  in  our  lives  which  can- 
not be  accurately  described  either  as  health  or  as 
disease.  Pregnancy,  for  instance,  properly  to  be  de- 
nned only  by  the  term  process,  may  become  normal 
or  pathological  according  to  the  heredity  and  consti- 
tution of  the  subject,  her  nutrition,  and  the  accidents 
which  may  affect  its  course.  It  is  suggestive  to  us 
here,  simply  because  of  the  conjunction  of  this  process 
with  a  result. 

Thus  are  we  again  confronted  with  that  question 
of  result,  which  we  persist  in  thinking  is  the  very  heart 
of  the  matter.  All  the  pathological  theories  of  genius 
collapse  utterly  when  they  reach  this  same  point — 
the  result.  All  the  " ideally  normal"  theories  of 
mysticism  collapse  utterly  when  they  reach  this  point 


390  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

— the  result.  The  discussion  of  Shelley's  degeneracy, 
and  the  possible  epilepsy  of  Caesar  and  Richelieu,  come 
to  nothing,  when  one  faces  the  irrefragable  result  of 
their  creative  intellectual  power.  That  exultant  cry 
of  the  mystic  that  he — he  only — has  grasped  the  divine 
truth — fails  wholly  when  one  asks  him  for  a  result, 
which  is  but  Nothingness.  The  medical-materialist 
has  not  been  able  to  produce  from  his  sanatorium  or 
maison  de  sante,  any  work  of  creative  genius ;  nor  can 
the  mystical  theorist  show  to  our  satisfaction  that 
the  saint  has  made  any  plainer  to  us  a  single  one  of 
life's  great  mysteries.  "No  psychological  meaning," 
asserts  Dr.  Hirsch,  "can  be  attached  to  the  word 
genius.  .  .  .  All  men  of  genius  possess  common 
traits,  ~but  they  are  not  traits  characteristic  of  gen- 
ius." 118  When  this  is  remembered,  and  also  that  "in 
psychology,  every  man  is  species  sui  generis/'  a  great 
point  will  have  been  gained  for  our  better  interpreta- 
tion of  the  phenomena  under  consideration. 

It  is  evident  that,  by  reason  of  their  fixed  char- 
acter, the  terms  "health"  and  "disease"  should  be 
finally  eliminated  from  this  discussion.  Too  long 
has  the  reader  been  held  within  the  limitations  they 
impose  upon  his  mind.  Bather  would  one  substitute 
the  idea  of  process,  and  define  the  emotional  religious 
experience  as  a  process  which  develops  in  many  of  us 
and  to  which  all  of  us  are  more  or  less  innately  sub- 
ject. This  development  has  been  seen  to  be  various, 
changing  with  the  character  of  the  person  and  with 
the  influences  surrounding  him.  At  the  beginning,  it 
is  governed  by  certain  fixed  conditions,  which  have 
been  found  to  vary  practically  not  at  all  in  different 


MYSTICISM:  ITS  INTERPRETATION       391 

countries  and  races,  nor  during  the  progress  of  the 
ages.  By  means  of  these  fixed  conditions  alone  has  it 
been  possible  to  study  the  process,  as  one  may  study 
anything  that  is  stable  and  defined.  They  are  classi- 
fied for  the  purpose  of  this  work  under  one  head, 
whereas  the  manifestations  of  the  process,  when  in  be- 
ing, fall  properly  under  another  classification.  The 
object  of  such  classification  is  merely  to  separate  the 
inducing  conditions  surrounding  the  process,  from  the 
process  itself, — a  differentiation  which  is  almost  never 
made  by  the  subject,  nor  by  those  immediately  in  touch 
with  him.  Their  tendency  to  ignore  the  favoring, 
antecedent  conditions  of  his  experience,  has  been  per- 
petuated in  the  work  even  of  serious  scientific  ana- 
lysts, who  fail  for  this  reason  to  see  the  saint  and 
his  situation  as  they  really  are.  Thus,  the  Church's 
interpretation  of  Augustin's  religious  experience  has 
been  fluctuating  and  fallacious  for  centuries;  thus, 
Mme.  Guyon  has  never  been  properly  understood; 
thus,  Guibert's  heredity — so  striking  an  influence! — 
is  ignored ;  and  the  suggestive  development  of  natures 
like  Loyola  and  Teresa  is  passed  over,  or  treated  as 
if  it  were  wholly  homogeneous. 

When  we  have  determined  that  this  form  of  experi- 
ence is  in  the  nature  of  a  process,  we  would  seem 
merely  to  have  shifted  the  difficulty,  and  not  to  have 
done  it  away ;  to  have  changed  the  terms,  yet  not  have 
explained  their  meaning.  The  ordinary  person  may 
not  be  obliged  to  have  what  actually  occurs  pointed 
out  to  him — but  he  will  yet  ask  why  and  wherefore. 
Why  does  the  nature  of  this  or  that  person  change  so 
entirely  that  for  the  time  being  it  is  unrecognizable? 


392  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

Wherefore  these  exaggerated  terrors,  this  unbalanced 
sensitiveness,  this  exaltation,  this  uplifted  passion? 
Something  has  set  up  a  disuniting  force  within  what 
we  have  chosen  in  these  pages  to  call  the  nebula  of 
Personality,  and  Something,  after  a  troublous  lapse 
of  time,  causes  it  healthily  to  integrate  once  more. 
Such,  in  brief,  is  the  process  with  which  most  of  us 
are  familiar  under  the  title  of  emotional  religious  ex- 
perience. To  what  is  this  process  due  ?  "What  causes 
it?  The  world  has  had  but  one  coherent  answer  to 
these  questions:  "It  is  due  to  the  spontaneous  up- 
springing  of  our  religious  instinct." 

We  have  said  that  this  is  not  a  work  of  speculation 
— yet  speculation  of  a  sort  there  must  be  in  every  work 
which  attempts  to  relate  the  facts  it  has  analyzed  to 
universal  underlying  conditions.  The  particular  con- 
crete example  must  be  governed  by  broad  and  gen- 
eral conditions  of  evolution.  Speculation,  therefore, 
in  the  classic  sense,  forms  a  necessary  part  of  every 
historical  and  scientific  theory.  Fortunately,  in  this 
case,  the  pathway  appears  to  emerge  on  one  of  the 
highways  of  the  intellect,  whereon  it  has  trodden  with- 
out ceasing,  almost  from  the  first  moment  that  it 
walked  alone.  Religion,  however  studied,  has  been  a 
subject  contemplated  from  the  dawn  of  intellectual 
life.  And  from  the  very  dawn,  this  same  answer 
about  religious  instinct,  under  its  varying  forms,  has 
been  made  without  ceasing  to  the  dissatisfied  investi- 
gator. 

Moreover,  it  has  been  made  from  very  different 
points  of  view,  it  has  tended  to  be  the  common  and 
universal  assumption  underlying  every  species  of 


MYSTICISM:  ITS  INTERPRETATION       393 

argument.  That  a  religious  instinct  exists,  that  its 
presence  in  the  nature  of  the  savage  accounts  for 
his  primitive  fears,  and  for  his  primitive  worship, — 
this  has  been  the  theory  alike  of  the  divine  and  the  lay- 
man, of  the  metaphysician  and  of  the  scientist.  Until 
the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  century,  this  assumption 
was  the  meeting-ground  of  minds  totally  dissimilar — 
here  the  Deist  joined  with  the  Catholic,  here  a  Rous- 
seau could  meet  in  agreement  both  with  a  Bossuet 
and  a  Voltaire.  However  variously  these  opposing 
views  may  have  accounted  for  the  presence  of  this 
religious  instinct  or  sentiment,  they  all  unite  in  taking 
its  existence  for  granted.  Advancing  science,  clearing 
away  in  its  progress  the  veils  which  hung  over  our 
conceptions  of  fundamental  states,  seemed  to  bring  us 
nearer  to  an  understanding  of  them.  Ethnology 
and  anthropology,  in  recent  investigations,  appeared 
to  confirm  this  assumption.  Historians  of  religion, 
taking  up  the  work  at  the  point  where  the  anthro- 
pologist lets  it  drop,  also  appear  to  add  confirmation, 
even  from  antagonistic  camps.  Psychology,  recently 
stepping  forward  with  its  first  pretensions  to  be  an 
exact  science,  does  not  appear  to  differ  in  most  of 
its  conclusions  from  the  conclusions  of  the  anthro- 
pologist or  of  the  historian. 

The  means  used  by  the  anthropologist  are  exact 
and  complete;  their  foundation  is  the  firm  and  rigid 
basis  of  physical  law.  The  means  used  by  the  historian 
have  limits  more  flexible — yet,  if  he  disregards,  as  he 
seems  to-day  bound  to  do,  the  regions  of  myth  and 
legend,  his  foundations  are  equally  solid  and  in- 
controvertible. To  the  anthropologist,  the  presence 


394  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

of  a  so-called  religious  instinct  is  a  sufficient  answer 
to  a  certain  question,  and  a  sufficient  explanation  of 
a  certain  stage  in  the  intellectual  evolution  of  Man. 
Without  it,  his  chain  lacks  its  strongest  links  of  connec- 
tion. The  historian,  in  his  turn,  beholds  people 
moving  in  masses  over  the  face  of  the  globe,  construct- 
ing, destroying,  building,  warring,  at  the  touch  of 
huge  forces,  among  which  religious  sentiment  is  ever 
one  of  the  most  vital. 

But  modern  psychology  has  had  to  rely  for  its  in- 
vestigations upon  the  questionnaire;  and  it  may  be 
permitted  us  to  doubt  if  this  means  can  ever  be  suc- 
cessfully used  to  obtain  the  more  stable  materials  of 
science.  Reasons  have  already  been  cited  in  these 
pages  for  considering  the  questionnaire  as  a  method 
fundamentally  unsound;  and  thus  for  our  disagree- 
ment, in  toto,  with  any  results  obtained  by  its  use. 
William  James,  evidently  feeling  this,  tried  to  widen 
the  field  of  evidence ;  but  the  physical  difficulties  in  his 
way — and  they  are  undeniable — threw  him  back  upon 
it  at  the  last,  with  the  result  of  minimizing  the  effect 
of  his  otherwise  striking  volume.  In  his  hand  and  in 
that  of  his  followers,  the  questionnaire  appeared  to 
fall  into  confirmation  with  theories  assuming  a  priori 
the  existence  of  a  primal  religious  instinct.  Does 
the  spontaneous  religious  confession — a  document  ow- 
ing its  very  existence  to  the  influences  making  for 
sincerity — does  it  confirm  the  results  of  the  question- 
naire? 

This  task  must  be  ours,  and  the  student  will  surely 
not  be  impatient  with  such  discussions  as  are  neces- 
sary fully  to  accomplish  that  object. 


IX 

THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  I 


I.  The  Document  as  literature;  subjectivity;  the  Book 

of  Job. 
II.  Growth  of  religious  sentiment. 

III.  General   comparisons   between   savage   and   modern 

mystical  phenomena. 

IV.  Fasting;  intoxication;  wandering  of  the  soul ;  ecstasy; 

memory  and  vision;  heaven  and  hell. 
V.  Sanctity;    spirit-world;    faery    and    angel    visions; 

exorcism. 

VI.  Vows  and  covenants. 

VII.  The  saints ;  the  voice ;  size  of  the  soul ;  the  daemon. 
VIII.  Magic;  stigmata;  mystical  flight;  fetich  and  fetich- 
worship. 


IX 

THE  RELIGIOUS   INSTINCT:   I 

THE  fundamental  difference  between  the  spontane- 
ous confession  and  the  confession  drawn  from  the 
answers  to  a  questionnaire,  lies  in  the  fact  that  the 
former  is  a  literary  production  amenable  to  the  influ- 
ences controlling  literary  movements,  and  so  indicat- 
ing the  general  conditions  existing  at  the  time  of  its 
composition,  as  well  as  the  particular  conditions  ob- 
taining in  the  mind  of  its  author.  Being  the  result  of 
a  direct  impulse  to  express  the  more  important  of 
one's  ideas  and  feelings,  these  ideas  and  feelings  tend 
to  maintain  a  natural  relation  the  one  to  the  other; 
while  the  "autobiographical  intention"  operates  to 
preserve  sincerity  and  to  keep  a  proper  proportion 
between  the  various  parts  of  the  narrative.  Thus 
the  very  spontaneity  of  the  record  lends  it  value. 

If  the  document  be  literary,  it  is  manifest  that 
the  broader  tendencies  of  literature  must  not  be  over- 
looked. The  opening  chapters  of  this  book  endeavored 
to  trace  these  underlying  tendencies  as  they  affected 
the  minds  from  which  such  records  took  their  rise. 
The  rite  of  public  confession  has  been  examined  in  this 
connection,  while  the  formal  discipline  effected  by  the 
body  of  Christian  apologetics  was  not  without  impor- 
tance. To  the  generally  subjective  and  introspective 
trend  of  the  world's  slowly  maturing  thought,  full  con- 

397 


398  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

sideration  was  accorded  before  the  contents  of  the 
documents  in  question  and  the  evidence  they  contained, 
claimed  the  reader's  attention.  If  a  return  upon  the 
broad  influences  for  the  moment  appears  necessary,  it 
is  because  whatever  affects  the  form  and  genesis  of  a 
document,  obviously  shapes  the  matter  thereof ;  and  no 
discussion  of  evidence  is  useful  without  comprehension 
of  its  origin.  To  understand  the  origin,  to  gauge 
the  validity,  of  this  evidence,  to  determine  its  bear- 
ing upon  the  problem  before  us, — let  us  recall  at  what 
stage  in  the  history  of  thought  the  confessant  made  his 
entry  into  literature,  as  the  foremost  exponent  of  the 
subjective  movement,  and  of  what  is  now  termed  the 
personal  note. 

In  a  former  volume,  the  writer 1  touched  on  the  his- 
torical beginnings  of  individualism,  as  affecting  the 
production  of  all  types  of  autobiographical  writing. 
In  the  religious  confession  this  individualism  took  its 
first  and  simplest  form.  So  soon  as  what  we  call 
authorship  became  possible,  and  a  man  was  able  pub- 
licly to  claim  his  own  compositions,  then  at  once  he 
desired  a  further  personal  expression  and  affirma- 
tion. Religious  feeling  went  hand-in-hand  with  liter- 
ary feeling  to  seek  this  affirmation.  Both  had  risen 
from  a  crowd-sentiment,  were  made  possible  by  the 
existence  of  a  crowd-sentiment.  "It  is  surely  suscep- 
tible of  proof, "  says  a  recent  writer,2  "that  institu- 
tional religion  came  before  personal  piety,  and  that 
the  great  emotional  and  consolatory  utterances  which 
spring  from  individual  experiences  could  not  be  made 
until  the  community,  in  choral  and  ritual,  formed  its 
dialect  of  worship  and  supplication  and  praise. ' '  This 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  I  399 

dialect,  then,  shaped  our  present  religious  concep- 
tions; and  one  may  mark  the  individual  rising  first 
above  his  group  as  he  came  to  seek  some  definition  of 
the  unknown  forces  about  him  in  the  universe. 

If  no  pretence  can  be  made  at  setting  a  date  for 
this  event, — one  of  the  vital  crises  in  the  history  of 
thought, — yet  the  archives  of  literature  show  us  where 
the  personal  note  was  first  sounded,  long  ere  the 
Christian  era.3  The  ancient  poetical  drama  of  Job  re- 
lates a  type  of  experience  familiar  to-day  and  startling 
in  its  vividness.  The  manner  of  Job's  complaint  and 
the  degree  of  introspection  with  which  it  was  accom- 
panied, show  an  individuality  already  marked,  an  Ego 
already  emphasized.  The  single  voice  is  here  uplifted 
above  the  chorus,  giving  words  to  its  personal  sense 
of  protest  and  revolt. 

"Surely,  I  would  speak  to  the  Almighty  and  I 
desire  to  reason  with  God,"4  is  the  demand,  and  it 
denotes  a  mental  state  eras  beyond  the  communal 
stage.  In  the  words,  "Make  me  to  know  my  trans- 
gression and  my  sin,"  lies  full  appreciation  of  what 
the  Friends  call  "bearing  testimony,"  linked  with 
great  wonder  at  the  miracle  of  Self,  a  new  and  in- 
tolerable sensation. 

"If  I  justify  myself,  mine  own  mouth  shall  con- 
demn me ;  if  I  say  I  am  perfect,  it  shall  also  prove  me 
perverse.  Though  I  were  perfect,  yet  would  I  not 
know  my  soul :  I  would  despise  my  life, " 5  he  cries, 
in  a  sort  of  exasperation;  while  his  humility  and  his 
submission  both  partake  of  this  same  bewilderment. 
"Therefore  have  I  uttered  that  I  understood  not, 
things  too  wonderful  for  me,  which  I  knew  not."6 


400  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

This  expressed  wonder  at  life  and  at  self,  is  the 
wonder  of  a  time  when  natural  laws  were  in  no  sense 
understood,  when  man  was  still  amazed  that  cold 
was  cold,  or  that  hot  was  hot,  or  that  he  should  feel 
and  act  as  he  felt  and  acted.7  The  first  religious 
phenomena  observed  by  him  were  necessarily  isolated, 
nor  would  he  be  apt  to  relate  them  to  any  other  set  of 
phenomena.  Comte  notes,  in  this  connection,  that  the 
mind  "must  have  attained  to  a  refined  state  of  medi- 
tation before  it  could  be  astonished  at  its  own  acts — 
reflecting  upon  itself  a  speculative  activity  which 
must  be  at  first  incited  by  the  external  world. ' ' 8 

Job's  perplexity  comes  to  us  from  the  cloudland 
at  the  beginning  of  things,  and  marks  an  advance  in 
intellectual  growth.  There  had  been  dim  centuries 
when  the  savage  progressed  no  further  than  to  marvel, 
vaguely,  at  the  world  around  him,  and  to  deify 
what  he  felt  to  be  beyond  his  grasp.  But  for  a 
strange  law  of  intellectual  curiosity,  which  ordains 
that  no  human  creature  shall  rest  content  with  mere 
wonder,  he  might  yet  have  remained  ignorant  and 
marvelling.  Man,  however,  when  once  he  starts  to 
investigate,  is  deterred  by  no  peril,  even  of  death. 
Like  the  child  in  Maeterlinck's  fairy-tale,  he  must 
needs  open  every  door  in  the  palace  of  night ; 9  for 
this  curiosity  is  incessantly  fed  by  those  forces  of 
Faith  and  of  Will,  which  drive  him  to  the  task. 

Wholly  untrained,  at  the  outset  he  saw  little;  he 
possessed  scanty  powers  of  observation  and  none  of 
self-observation;  unable  to  comprehend,  he  could 
neither  relate  nor  compare  what  he  actually  saw. 
These  faculties  developed  slowly,  and  certainly  did 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  I  401 

not  keep  pace  with  memory.  Hence  the  lack  of 
method  in  early  self -study,  the  omission,  the  vagueness, 
the  misinterpretation.  Hence  the  sterile  self -observa- 
tion of  the  Neo-Platonists,  for  instance,  leading  only  to 
the  fresh  wonder  of  mysticism. 

The  present  study  finds  an  especial  significance  in 
the  Book  of  Job,  that  landmark  in  the  history  of  re- 
ligion. Here  the  individual  makes  his  first  appear- 
ance, lifts  his  voice  to  protest  the  weight  of  his  own 
experience.  Here  the  reader  may  see  wonder  become 
curiosity,  and  curiosity  become  investigation.  Here 
he  may  observe  reaction,  pressure  of  the  outside  world, 
timid  friends  with  their  accusation  (since  grown 
classic)  of  intellectual  arrogance;  and  finally  capitu- 
lation, with  honor,  to  the  Terror  of  the  Unknown.  It 
is  true  that  Job  is  an  isolated  instance,  just  as  Au- 
gustin  is  an  isolated  instance.  Yet  any  piece  of 
literature  becomes  necessarily  a  focus  of  tentative 
ideas.  The  self -study  in  Job  indicates  the  stage  that 
was  reached  at  the  time  of  its  composition,  even  if 
his  conclusion  does  not  differ  from  the  submissive 
adoration  which  was  murmured  all  around  him.  "I 
have  heard  of  thee  by  the  hearing  of  the  ear,  but  now 
mine  eye  seeth  thee,  wherefore  I  abhor  myself  and 
repent  in  dust  and  ashes. ' ' 10  Nothing  novel  in  this 
conclusion,  for  the  tortured  soul  of  the  twentieth  cen- 
tury !  * '  There  is  only  one  thing  for  me  now, ' '  writes 
Oscar  Wilde,  " absolute  humility."11 

Thus  the  final  conclusion  of  the  confession  is  the 
same  after  two  thousand  years ;  emotionally,  at  least, 
it  has  not  changed  through  all  the  shifting  of  opinions 
and  circumstances.  But  (as  has  been  already  sug- 


402  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

gested)  emotional  influences  are  by  no  means  the 
only  influences  at  work  upon  the  evolution  of  the  re- 
ligious idea.  Intellectual  currents  may  flow  with,  or 
against,  the  emotional  currents,  affecting  the  move- 
ment of  the  whole  stream.  Self-understanding,  in 
itself,  must  have  tended  to  heighten  the  forces  pro- 
ductive of  the  mental  condition  called,  by  us  Belief. 
Bagehot  points  out  that  "What  we  term  Belief  holds 
both  an  emotional  and  an  intellectual  element,  Assent 
and  Conviction.  .  .  .  The  power  of  an  idea  to  cause 
conviction  depends  much  on  its  clearness  and  intensity 
first  of  all.  .  .  .  Truth  has  nothing  to  do  with  it,  since 
men  may  hold  it  on  opposite  sides  of  the  same  ques- 
tion. .  .  .  The  interestingness  of  the  idea  counts,  but 
it  loses  its  power  to  convict  in  proportion  as  it  may 
lose  any  of  its  clearness  or  its  intensity."12 

Bearing  these  words  in  mind,  the  evolution  of  be- 
lief-processes in  the  intelligence  of  primitive  and  semi- 
savage  man,  becomes  comprehensible.  To  him  most 
ideas  were  clear,  most  were  intense,  all  must  have 
been  interesting.  His  beliefs  were  based  on  the  simple 
operation  of  natural  cause  and  effect — that  rain  came 
from  the  clouds,  that  it  chilled  the  body  and  was  dried 
by  the  sunshine ;  that  to  go  without  food  permitted  a 
man  to  see  the  faces  and  hear  the  voices  of  his 
gods.  Convictions  of  this  nature,  derived  from  means 
purely  logical,  grew  intensely  strong,  and  in  time  this 
strong  feeling  lent  itself  to  convictions  whose  founda- 
tions were  decidedly  less  logical.  Habits  of  convic- 
tion, induced  by  observation  of  natural  laws,  developed 
a  receptive  state  of  mind, — and  one  which  tended  to 
grow  receptive  without  discrimination  as  to  matters 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  I  403 

lying  properly  outside  the  sphere  of  natural  law.  This 
intensity  of  conviction  was  readily  applied  to  ideas,  to 
imaginative  and  anthropomorphic  conceptions,  to  the 
causes  which  men  were  obliged  to  invent  as  well  as  to 
those  of  which  they  knew.  In  such  manner  there  was 
developed  the  same  habit  of  taking  natural  logic  for 
granted,  and  acting  on  it,  as  may  be  seen  to-day  in 
many  intelligent  children,  whose  action  thereupon  will 
so  often  have  disastrous  results.  For  primitive  man 
there  existed  no  corrective  civilization,  to  tell  him  that 
he  must  not  believe  everything  he  thought  he  saw. 
Not  only  did  he  so  believe,  but  he  began  also  to  com- 
municate this  powerful  conviction  to  all  those  new 
images  which  the  fascinating  process  of  self-observa- 
tion caused  him  to  behold,  rising  like  delicate  and 
evanescent  bubbles  from  the  depths  to  the  surface  of 
consciousness.  Among  these,  no  doubt  the  larger 
number  dealt  with  the  supernatural,  and  took  anthro- 
pomorphic shapes.  The  further  operation  of  this  prim- 
itive logic  was  responsible  in  great  measure  for  the 
fetich  and  fetich- worship,  whereby  life  and  vital  in- 
fluence were  attributed  to  inanimate  objects  and  sym- 
bols. Gradually,  the  ritual  of  ancient  religions  grew 
up  to  satisfy  primitive  man's  sense  of  what  was  fitting 
and  reasonable  in  the  way  of  rite  and  sacrifice. 

Psychologically,  at  least,  we  can  understand  to-day 
exactly  how  the  religion  of  rites  and  sacrifices  was  the 
natural  outcome  of  primitive  logic,  the  natural  and 
fitting  expression  of  this  rudimentary  sense  for  cause 
and  effect.  Introspection,  or  self-observation,  bore 
its  share  in  the  evolution  of  ritual,  because  every- 
thing one  noticed  about  oneself  tended  at  first  to 


404  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

make  one's  religious  ideas  more  definitely  anthropo- 
morphic. No  less  is  it  true,  however,  that  continued 
self-observation  inevitably  leads  the  observer  away 
from  the  religion  of  act  and  deed  alone, — it  tends 
rather  toward  philosophy  and  toward  mysticism.  The 
elementary  introspection,  which  at  first  may  have  en- 
couraged the  formal  rite,  soon  began  to  alter  and  to 
develop  men's  standards  of  personal  conduct.  He 
who  looked  steadfastly  within,  soon  found  that  for  him 
it  was  not  enough  to  offer  sacrifice,  to  keep  feast  and 
fast,  to  join  in  ritual  and  choral  dance, — what  he  felt 
within  himself  was  not  a  whit  assuaged  by  these.  His 
discontent  is  poignantly  and  beautifully  expressed  by 
Christ,  in  passages  hungrily  seized  on  by  the  waiting 
world. 

"For  I  say  unto  you,  that  except  your  righteous- 
ness shall  exceed  the  righteousness  of  the  Scribes  and 
Pharisees,  ye  shall  in  no  case  enter  into  the  kingdom 
of  heaven."13  And  again,  "Woe  unto  you,  Scribes 
and  Pharisees,  hypocrites!  for  ye  pay  tithe  of  mint 
and  anise  and  cummin  and  have  omitted  the  weightier 
matters  of  the  law,  judgment,  mercy  and  faith."14 

The  deepening  sense  that  there  were  "weightier 
matters"  heightened  the  emotional  need  of  matur- 
ing humanity;  while  the  ancient  dissociation  be- 
tween religion  and  conduct — a  dissociation,  as  we 
shall  see  later,  having  a  real  foundation  in  hu- 
man psychology — made  the  ancient  cults  and  prac- 
tices comparatively  useless  to  aid  that  man  who  had 
begun  to  "look  within"  and  to  be  ashamed  at  what 
he  saw.  The  world's  desire  was  now  for  something 
more  significant  than  the  mere  performance  of  the 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  I  405 

proper  act  in  the  proper  way.  'Just  before  the  Chris- 
tian era  this  need  was  crucial,  for  men's  ideas  and 
ideals  had  outgrown  the  standards  set  by  the  early 
religions  of  cult.  These  creeds  had  long  ceased  to 
satisfy  the  learned  or  the  cultured,  for  to  such  minds 
philosophy  itself  will  often  furnish  both  the  material 
and  the  motive-power  of  religion.  Therefore,  the  im- 
portant point  is,  not  that  Socrates,  or  Seneca,  or 
Marcus  Aurelius,  had  outgrown  their  country's  faith, 
but  that  the  people  as  a  whole  had  outgrown  it.  The 
poor,  the  untaught,  the  despised,  also  were  beginning 
to  "look  within,"  in  the  vague  hope  that  there  they 
might  behold  something  more  divine  than  those  gross 
gods  who  reared  their  misshapen  heads  into  the  East- 
ern sunshine.  And  they  did  find  something  more 
divine;  pity,  and  charity,  the  desire  to  help  one  an- 
other and  to  pardon  one  another ;  movements,  exquisite 
and  struggling  within  them,  of  a  something  they  had 
ignored  and  which  now  they  came  to  call  the  Soul. 

Self -study  will  be  found  to  lie  at  the  very  root  of 
the  causes  making  for  the  swift  spread  of  Christianity. 
Historians  have  failed  to  dwell  upon  the  influence  of 
the  subjective  tendency  on  Christian  origins,  probably 
because  it  is  hardly  capable  of  proof.  It  must  be  felt 
as  an  atmosphere,  rather  than  beheld  as  a  con- 
dition. An  earlier  chapter  noted  this  trend  in  the 
last  stand  made  by  paganism,  and  showed  how 
in  the  later  Alexandrian  school,  during  the  second  to 
the  fourth  century,  subjectivity  will  be  found  at  the 
bottom  of  Neo-Platonic  and  other  non-Christian  doc- 
trines. Plotinus,  Porphyry,  and  later,  lamblichus, 
made  constant  use  of  introspection  to  express  their 


406  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

philosophical-mystical  system,  if  without  permanent 
effect. 

The  success  of  Christianity  has  been  variously  at- 
tributed, but  historians  are  at  least  united  in  the 
opinion  that  pagan  doctrines  had  ceased  to  satisfy  the 
world.  In  pre-Christian  days,  the  masses  followed 
perfunctorily  decaying  superstitions  sprung  from 
their  earlier  beliefs.15  Scholars  emphasize  the  prevail- 
ing aridity  of  these  beliefs,  the  moral  unrest  which 
caused  men  to  seize  with  enthusiasm  upon  a  fresh, 
vital,  and  subjective  faith.  In  its  simpler  form, 
Christianity  appealed  directly  to  the  emotions,  to  the 
newly  aroused  ethical  sense  of  humbler  folk,  and  of 
those  who  wondered  at  the  changes  taking  place  within 
themselves. 

Here  is  no  place  to  linger  on  the  fact  of  those  philo- 
sophic alterations  in  structure  which  were  later  to 
adapt  Christian  doctrines  to  the  requirements  of  the 
more  sophisticated  intellects  of  the  age.  It  is  now 
generally  accepted  that  Paul  is  responsible  for  them, 
as  for  their  promulgation.  Such  changes,  however, 
were  founded  upon  an  emotional  condition;  and  this 
fact  our  present  data  show  to  be  as  true  of  each  in- 
dividual case  to-day,  as  it  was  during  the  first  and 
second  centuries. 

Boissier,16  discussing  this  subject,  remarks  that 
every  intellectual  advance  is  followed  by  an  emo- 
tional reaction.  For  the  Romans,  the  death  of  their 
barbarous  polytheism  was  a  great  advance,  but  it  left 
them  without  any  emotional  faith;  hence  a  natural 
relapse  into  mysticism.  Isis  and  Mithras,  and  many 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  I  407 

other  Eastern  gods,  had  their  votaries,  and  their  little 
day  of  fashionable  success  in  Imperial  Rome.17  But 
neither  Isis  nor  Mithras  could  satisfy,  as  Christ  sat- 
isfied, the  need  of  the  people  for  higher  standards  of 
conduct.  It  was  the  combination  he  offered  of  mys- 
tical rewards  and  satisfactions,  together  with  an  avail- 
able working  plan  of  human  brotherhood,  and  hu- 
man interest,  which,  charged  with  emotional  beauty 
and  intensity,  moved  the  entire  world.  Nor  must  it 
be  supposed  that  the  first  Christian  doctrines  were 
necessarily  above  the  heads  of  the  crowd  to  whom 
they  were  addressed.  Renan  comments  on  the  fact 
that,  side  by  side  with  barren  cults,  human  no- 
bility was  everywhere  manifest,  that  moral  ideas 
were  everywhere  in  a  state  of  activity  and  ferment, 
and  that  it  was  the  change  in  the  moral  standards  of 
the  peasant  which  helped  to  kill  the  ancient  polythe- 
ism.18 

The  vitality  of  paganism  must  not  be  under- 
estimated; its  struggle  to  exist  has  been  the  theme 
of  many  an  historian.19  The  change  was  an  internal 
change;  not  the  doctrine  so  much  as  the  person  was 
unfit.  Pagan  objectivity  no  longer  seemed  religious 
to  a  man  beginning  to  study  himself ;  and  this  shift  in 
idea  may  be  observed  in  numberless  ways.  The  con- 
test between  Paul  and  James,  called  the  brother  of 
Christ,  over  the  significance  of  the  rite  of  circum- 
cision, displays  the  old  and  the  new  forces  simul- 
taneously contending  in  the  midst  of  the  first  small 
group  of  Christians.  To  James 's  mind  the  rite  is  still 
preeminent — the  uncircumcised  cannot  be  received 


408  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

into  the  Church.  To  Paul's  mind, — though  he  will 
not  have  his  disciples  forget  their  Jewish  heritage,20 
— faith  is  still,  and  ever  will  be,  above  the  law. 

"0  foolish  Galatians,"  he  cries  in  one  of  his  greatest 
letters,21  "received  ye  the  Spirit  by  the  works  of  the 
law,  or  by  the  hearing  of  faith  ? ' '  And  he  reiterates, 
throughout  the  epistle,  that  those  who  are  once  freed 
by  the  spirit,  shall  not  again  fall  into  bondage  through 
observance.  If  the  reactionary  wishes  of  the  elder 
Apostle  had  prevailed  in  this  contest,  the  spread  of 
Christ's  teaching  must  have  been  much  retarded. 
Humanity,  arrived  at  a  new  stage  of  individualism, 
had  found  therein  a  creed  in  which  themselves,  their 
needs  and  aspirations,  partook  of  greater  importance 
since  they  held  they  were  in  truth  the  children  of 
God. 

Subjectivity  of  thought,  which  both  affected  and 
was  affected  by  the  growth  of  Christian  tenets,  was  not 
long  in  finding  expression  through  literature.  A  liter- 
ary form  became,  as  it  were,  technically  suggested  and 
supplied  by  the  Church ;  the  ancient  rite  of  public  con- 
fession, yielding  to  the  individualistic  tendencies  of 
the  times,  gave  way  to  private  confession.  The 
classic  apologists,  exercising  every  mental  and  emo- 
tional faculty  in  controversy  and  exegesis,  further  in- 
fluenced this  form  by  the  heat  of  their  personal  con- 
victions. To  describe,  to  differentiate  what  we  be- 
lieve, by  making  an  appeal,  first,  to  the  doctrine  itself, 
second,  to  authority,  third,  to  individual  experience, 
is  a  process  perfectly  familiar  to  most  of  us,  both 
in  its  inception  and  in  its  order.  The  child  and  the 
savage  follow,  almost  mechanically,  this  same  order 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  I  409 

in  their  reasoning :  ' '  I  believe  this — first,  because  it  is 
good  to  believe,  beautiful  and  satisfying; — second, 
because  my  parents,  and  the  doctors  of  my  tribe  so 
teach  me, — third,  because  it  makes  me  feel  such  and 
such  emotions,  or  because  I  see  and  hear  such  and  such 
visions  and  voices. " 

The  "Corpus  Apologetarum  Christianorum"  had 
threshed  most  vigorously  the  grain  of  belief  from 
the  surrounding  straw,  and  thus  prepared  the  way  for 
that  great  exemplar  of  the  third  stage — Augustin — to 
make  his  supreme  personal  appeal.  His  "Confes- 
sions" fused  these  elements  into  one  flawless  and 
incomparable  crystal  for  all  time.  With  the  achieve- 
ment of  a  single  masterpiece,  any  literary  form  be- 
comes literature.  Through  Augustin,  the  confession 
takes  it  proper  place,  assuming  familiar  shapes,  point- 
ing to  classical  examples,  and  sheltering  diverse  types 
and  schools.  Thereafter,  the  matter  changes  little ;  the 
method,  with  practice,  and  under  the  tutelage  of  sci- 
ence, has  grown  more  balanced  and  detailed.  The 
self -student  is  to-day  more  apt;  he  understands  bet- 
ter what  he  sees;  more  important  still,  he  misinter- 
prets his  observations  rather  less.  On  the  other  hand, 
he  is  much  further  from  the  sources  of  that  pure  emo- 
tion, his  guiding  vision  has  dimmed.  If  Christian- 
ity were  an  emotional  reaction,  then  it  would  seem  as 
though  the  first  impetus  of  that  emotion,  as  emotion, 
were  spent.  With  the  possibility  or  desirability  of 
its  recrudescence,  we  have  not  here  to  do, — since  our 
present  concern  is  but  to  determine  some  of  the 
problems  contained  in  the  evidence  it  furnishes. 

To  deal  at  any  length  with  the  different  aspects  of 


410  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

religious  origins,  would  be  to  lead  the  reader  far 
from  the  theme  of  the  present  study.  Volumes  are 
required  to  discuss  any  one  of  the  many  complex 
and  disputed  questions  involved  in  the  study  of  re- 
ligion. Save  where  they  touch  the  subject  in  hand, 
for  us  they  but  becloud  the  issue.  We  must  not  step 
aside  from  the  narrow  path  whereon  our  feet  are  set, 
to  lose  our  way  in  that  vast  wilderness  of  theory.  The 
reader  must  not  look  for  more  than  a  brief  mention 
of  such  "august  things, "  and  that  only  where  they 
press  upon  the  confines  of  this  essay. 

Following  hard  on  the  history  of  these  documents, 
should  be  an  effort  to  relate  the  manifestations  of  in- 
dividual, personal  sentiment  which  they  contain,  to 
the  mass-sentiment,  and  when  this  is  accomplished,  it 
may  perchance  be  somewhat  easier  to  consider  their 
evidence  in  the  light  of  a  general  theory  of  religion. 

The  impulse  from  which  these  confessions  spring  is 
individual,  spontaneous,  and  inevitable,  and  made  its 
appearance  at  a  comparatively  late  stage  in  the  his- 
tory of  human  ideas.  Slowly  this  idea  had  grown  out 
of  the  abysmal  fear  and  the  propitiation  of  what  was 
feared,  into  a  concomitant  state  of  ritual  and  hier- 
archy, bound  up  with  the  formation  of  a  national 
existence.  As  the  tribe  became  a  nation,  as  the  scat- 
tered nomad  elements  fused  and  cohered  until  they 
built  and  fought  as  one,  religion  was,  of  course,  among 
the  most  powerful  of  the  formative  influences  at  work 
upon  them.  Yet  it  is  needful  to  repeat — because  it  is 
so  often  forgotten — that  this  religious  sentiment,  with 
its  patriotic  connotations,  is  by  no  means  identical  with 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  I  411 

what  we  now  call  religious  sentiment.  Much  more  has 
it  the  significance  of  a  convention;  and  it  bound  men 
together  by  the  chain  of  traditional  convention.  Says 
a  recent  writer: 22  "With  the  Romans  religion  was  not 
a  personal  matter  .  .  .  because  the  very  concept  of 
personality  was  in  its  infancy.  There  was  no  indi- 
vidual initiative  or  volition.  .  .  .  The  fulfilment  of  his 
duty  to  his  gods  was  a  normal  and  natural  function  of 
his  life.  ...  If  one  had  spoken  to  a  Roman  in  the 
fourth  century,  or  even  in  the  third  century  before 
Christ,  concerning  the  soul,  its  sinfulness,  and  its  need 
of  salvation  .  .  .  the  person  addressed  would  not  have 
understood  what  it  was  all  about. ' ' 2S  The  Roman,  in 
Professor  Carter's  phrase,  "had  not  the  consciousness 
of  an  individual  soul."  One  has  only  to  stop  and 
consider  what  part  this  conception  of  the  individual 
soul  plays  in  religious  ideas  to-day,  to  realize  the 
difference  in  this  so-called  religious  sentiment.  If 
it  can  be  compared  to  anything  in  modern  life,  it 
would  not  be  religion  at  all,  but  rather  our  modern 
code  of  manners  or  our  modern  standards  of  civilized 
behavior.  Infringement  of  its  decrees  bore  the  stigma 
of  eccentricity  along  with  that  of  impiety.  A  man  of 
a  certain  class  to-day  might  readily  break  the  Ten 
Commandments,  when  there  is  no  temptation  strong 
enough  to  make  him  wear  informal  dress  on  a  formal 
occasion.  It  were  far  easier  for  such  an  one  to  out- 
rage the  moral  code  than  the  conventional,  to  commit 
a  sin  rather  than  an  act  which  he  would  consider  as 
unfitting,  or  as  not  customary.  Similar  feeling  is  rep- 
resented in  the  Chinese  religion;  which  has  been  de- 
scribed as  a  "set  of  acts  properly  and  exactly  done; 


412  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

the  proper  person  sacrificing  always  to  the  proper  ob- 
ject in  the  proper  way."  24 

Religious  feeling  to-day  is  bound  up  with  the  con- 
sciousness of  an  individual  soul.  Its  source  is  the 
fresh  emotional  power  roused  by  Christianity,  and 
applied  to  a  whole  group  of  emotions  which  were 
primarily  concerned  with  a  very  different  set  of  ideas. 
All  those  feelings  which  to-day  are  wrapt  up  in  mys- 
tical conceptions,  in  the  more  ancient,  abysmal  times, 
were  connected  with  the  idea  of  magic,  and  fear  of  the 
unknown.  If  expressed  in  any  definite  form  at  all, 
these  experiences  and  feelings  which  we  consider  as 
purely  individual,  were  then  communal,  or,  if  single, 
then  the  person  holding  them  bore  to  the  rest  of  his 
tribe  the  relation  of  priest,  or  medicine-man.  That 
this  identical  attitude  lingered  over  into  the  Middle 
Ages,  is  to  be  read  in  diverse  manners;  it  will 
be  found  permeating  the  witch-trials,25  the  trials  be- 
fore the  Inquisition,  the  private  letters  and  journals 
of  saints  and  savants. 

The  creed  of  convention — under  many  forms — suf- 
ficed the  world  until  a  period  relatively  late  in  history. 
With  the  decline  in  its  power  came  the  rise  in  individ- 
ualism, and  the  demand  for  a  fresh  inspiration.  No 
longer  satisfied  in  the  performance  of  the  proper  act 
in  the  proper  manner,  men  received  from  advancing 
civilization  a  stimulus  in  ideals.  A  higher  sense 
of  personal  responsibility,  born  of  a  deeper  self-knowl- 
edge, both  demanded  and  aroused  a  more  intimate 
religious  sentiment,  and  thus  religion  began  to  be  as- 
sociated with  conduct.  Scholars  have  suggested  that 
the  stages  in  the  development  of  religion  follow  hard 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  I  413 

upon  the  stages  in  the  evolution  of  human  society, 
passing  from  the  savage  or  material  state  to  a  national 
or  tribe-sentiment,  and  thence,  with  the  rise  of  the 
individual,  differentiating  into  many  heterogeneous 
forms.  From  the  national  sentiment  is  formed  a 
priesthood  to  aid  the  preservation  of  the  national  life. 
This  stage  is  clearly  marked  in  the  Pentateuch,  where 
religion  and  patriotism  seem  one.  But  a  priesthood 
may  mean  tyranny,  and  tyranny  breeds  revolt.  In- 
dividual protest  not  only  weakened  the  power  of  the 
hierarchy,  but  came  to  form  a  new  conception  of  re- 
ligion, as  a  personal  affair;  and  as  religion  grows 
personal  and  mystical,  it  tends  away  from  ritual  and 
cult.  This  cycle  may  be  seen  in  India.  Out  of  the 
early  tenets  of  the  Vedic  faith  was  evolved  an  elaborate 
ritual  and  a  vast  and  complex  hierarchy.  This,  in 
turn,  gave  way  before  the  rise  of  mystic  and  ascetic 
practices,  which,  by  their  excessive  individualism,  led 
to  the  rejection  of  almost  all  rites,  and  in  some  cases 
even  to  the  rejection  of  the  gods  themselves.26 

With  the  mystical  stage,  religious  self -study  is  in- 
timately connected.  Starting  from  a  mystical  im- 
pulse, intensified  and  heightened  in  all  mystical  re- 
actions, it  may  be  influenced  to  a  marked  extent  by 
scientific  knowledge  and  method,  yet  its  source  is 
ever  that  same  spring  of  emotion  from  which  mysti- 
cism also  takes  its  rise.  Oddly  enough,  scholars  have 
practically  ignored  the  inter-relation  of  mysticism  and 
introspection,  an  inter-relation  which,  in  certain  ways, 
is  peculiarly  significant.  For  the  data  of  the  intro- 
spective record  are  largely  mystical  data,  the  states  it 
depicts  are  largely  mystical  states.27  Moreover,  the 


414  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

confession  shows  a  suggestive  sympathy  for  these 
states,  an  inclination  to  describe  them;  while,  at  the 
same  time,  it  manifests  a  significant  tendency  to  iso- 
late them  from  the  other  operations  of  the  mind,  as 
sprung  from  wholly  different  causes.  When  these 
conditions  are  weighed  and  measured,  one  is  roused  to 
consider  what  real  reason  exists,  after  all,  to  put  these 
depicted  states  in  the  same  class  with  the  opinions  con- 
cerning God,  revelation,  and  duty,  which  are  quietly 
and  intelligently  formed  by  the  sensible,  unemotional 
person.  Is  he  really  justified  in  supposing  that  the 
one  is  an  intensification  of  the  other?  Have  this  emo- 
tional state  and  this  intellectual  state  necessarily  a 
common  source?  They  have  always  been  classed  to- 
gether, because  they  concern  the  same  subject.  We 
use  the  word  "  religion "  to  cover  both.  Yet  the  forces 
combining  in  human  psychology  are  infinitely  com- 
plex and  intricate,  and  tend  to  differentiate  more 
widely,  the  nearer  we  regard  them.  All  the  world  has 
been  struck  by  the  bizarre  contrast  in  manifestations, 
which,  it  was  taught,  came  from  one  and  the  same 
instinct.  Psychologists  attribute  these  variations  to 
temperament, — yet  some  among  them  are  by  no 
means  convinced  that  the  high  seriousness  of  a  Renan 
or  a  Spencer,  the  dogmatic  formalism  of  a  Newman, 
the  naif  anthropomorphism  of  Mechtilde  or  Ger- 
trude, the  energy  of  Wesley,  the  passivity  of  Mme. 
Guyon,  the  joyous  exaltation  of  Suso  or  Rolle,  the 
dread  and  horror  of  Linsley  or  Whitefield,  are  all  ex- 
hibitions of  the  same  force. 

The  above  examples  are  selected  from  within  the 
confines  of  Christianity:  when  one  attempts  a  selec- 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  I  415 

tion  from  the  world  at  large,  the  variations  appear 
even  more  extraordinary.  It  is  to  this  religious  in- 
stinct we  have  been  told  to  look  for  an  explanation 
alike  of  the  Buddhist's  tenderness  to  life,  and  of  the 
Thug's  indifference  to  murder;  of  the  war-lust  of  the 
Mohammedan,  and  of  Christ's  "Thou  shalt  not  kill." 

To  the  reflective  mind  these  paradoxes  constitute, 
in  Hume's  phrase,  "a  complete  enigma";  and  one 
which  is  not  solved  by  any  study  of  the  individual  and 
his  variations.  Indeed,  we  see  much  to  make  us 
echo  the  words  of  Sir  Thomas  Browne,  that  * '  Men  have 
lost  their  reason  in  nothing  so  much  as  their  reli- 
gion. ' ' 28  Paradoxes  in  human  nature,  however,  are 
only  the  result  of  our  inadequacy  in  trying  to  ex- 
plain what  is  not  yet  fully  understood.  Hume  felt 
this  paradox  to  be  an  insuperable  barrier  to  the  mind. 
"No  theological  absurdities  so  glaring,"  he  writes, 
' '  that  they  have  not  sometimes  been  embraced  by  men 
of  the  greatest  and  most  cultivated  understanding. 
No  religious  precepts  so  rigorous  that  they  have  not 
been  adopted  by  the  most  voluptuous  and  abandoned 
of  men."  29  Bewilderment  is  the  outcome  of  any  at- 
tempt to  reconcile  these  contrasts,  and  few  of  us  are 
able  to  follow  Hume's  advice  and  to  make  our  escape 
into  the  calmer  regions  of  philosophy. 

So  long  as  we  insist  on  regarding  the  so-called  reli- 
gious instinct  as  an  unit, — these  fundamental  problems 
show  no  signs  of  solution.  Yet  the  moment  one  ceases 
so  to  regard  them,  a  fresh  group  of  problems  arises  out 
of  the  debris.  Philosophers  have  been  extremely  re- 
luctant to  decide  upon  a  further  differentiation.  No 
longer  is  Comte  permitted  his  solution  of  the  three 


416  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

stages  of  humanity,  "the  theological,  or  fictitious,  the 
metaphysical  or  transitional,  and  the  positive,  or  scien- 
tific," by  which,  he  declared,  each  one  of  us  became 
"a  theologian  in  childhood,  a  metaphysician  in  youth, 
and  a  natural  philosopher  in  his  manhood. ' ' 30  Comte 
laid  more  stress  on  the  value  of  the  first,  or  theological 
conceptions,  since  he  considered  that  they  afforded  a 
means  of  escape  from  the  vicious  circle  of  primitive 
philosophy.  His  utilitarian  point  of  view  was  con- 
firmed by  the  apparent  suitability  of  these  conceptions 
to  human  development,  and  the  stimulus  to  irksome 
labor  offered  by  a  system  of  rewards  and  punish- 
ments.81 There  is  yet  another  explanation  offered  us 
by  theorists  who  place  intellectual  curiosity  at  the 
root  of  religious  instinct,  thus  emphasizing  the  in- 
tellectual character  of  its  origin.  It  is  epitomized 
simply,  "as  something  that  promised  to  explain  the 
world  to  Man,  and  to  explain  him  to  himself." 32 

Another  group  seeks  the  source  of  all  these  feelings 
in  worship,  in  adoration  of  the  powers  of  nature  and 
the  heavenly  powers ; 83  again  suggesting  an  emotional 
origin.  The  difficulty  of  reconciling  the  phenomena 
is,  of  course,  no  new  difficulty,  and  so  acute  a  modern 
as  M.  Eeinach  warns  against  confounding  such  totally 
different  conceptions  as  religion  and  religious  senti- 
ment, as  he  distinguishes  them.34  The  first  is  de- 
fined as  formal  religion  springing  from  that  mass  of 
primitive  scruples  regarding  totems  and  tabus.  The 
second,  or  religious  sentiment,  is  rather  man 's  attitude 
toward  the  unknown  supernatural  forces  in  the  uni- 
verse.35 Seeing  in  all  religions  ' '  the  infinitely  curious 
products  of  man's  imagination  and  man's  reason  in 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  I  417 

its  infancy/'  Reinach  concludes  by  looking  toward 
ethnological  and  anthropological  research  to  account 
for  them. 

By  accepting  the  truth  that  the  sources  of  the  re- 
ligious instinct  are  not  one,  but  many,  that  he  who 
displays  emotional  manifestations  of  its  activity  has 
no  necessary  kinship  with  another  in  whom  such  man- 
ifestations are  intellectual,  much  will  have  been 
gained.  Our  spontaneous — one  had  almost  said 
classic — intolerance  with  each  other's  beliefs,  may 
be  better  understood.  Risen  out  of  a  deep-seated  and 
innate  perception  that  religious  feelings  have  not  al- 
ways an  identical  psychological  source,  this  impa- 
tience may  at  times  indicate  that  these  sources  are 
positively  antagonistic.  For,  if  we  examine  the  his- 
tory of  our  mental  growth,  we  cannot  fail  to  note  that 
the  rate  at  which  our  various  faculties  evolve  is  not 
necessarily  equal,  any  more  than  their  material  is 
necessarily  homogeneous.  The  complexity  of  our 
personal  evolution  is  the  raison  d'etre  of  our  so-called 
inconsistency.  A  man 's  intellect  may  have  reached  to 
a  high  degree  of  evolution,  while  his  emotional  equip- 
ment yet  lags  centuries  behind.  One  faculty  may 
be  forced  in  its  unfolding,  while  another  may  be 
stunted,  or  warped,  or  atrophied.  Thus  men  of  com- 
manding intelligence  have  acted,  at  crises,  like  sav- 
ages; and  men  of  the  roughest  stamp  have  displayed 
the  most  sensitive  perceptions.  The  dual,  or  multiple, 
sources  of  the  so-called  religious  instinct,  slowly 
developing  in  the  individual  into  faculties  both 
various  and  opposing,  cause  the  personal  phenomena 
with  which  he  is  at  moments  confronted,  and  which 


418  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

at  no  time  has  lie  been  able  to  understand.  The  very 
fact  that  he  cannot  understand  them,  lends  them 
potency  and  dignity,  and  this  potency  and  dignity 
cling  around  the  whole  subject  from  early  times.  The 
modern  student  is  affected  by  this  atmosphere,  which 
appears  to  him  to  furnish  warrant  for  the  mystical 
point  of  view. 

When  we  look  more  nearly  at  the  course  of  human 
ideas,  we  see  that  this  fallacy  of  the  single  religious 
instinct  lies  at  the  root  of  many  important  misunder- 
standings. Emotional  experiences  of  any  sort  are 
seldom  satisfactorily  accounted  for  to  the  intellect; 
although  religion  has  made  the  effort  to  control 
and  systematize  them  by  the  formulation  of  dog- 
ma. The  history  of  sect  lies  in  the  result  of  this 
effort.  At  moments  (and  crucial  moments)  it  has 
been  successful  to  a  high  degree,  but  it  is  a  success  not 
to  be  sustained,  since  the  vitality  of  any  dogma  in- 
evitably sets  in  motion  the  forces  tending  toward 
its  own  destruction. 

Many  volumes  cannot  suffice  to  deal  adequately  with 
these  complexities;  at  present  our  interest  must  re- 
main with  the  emotional  factors.  Hume  commented 
on  man's  anthropomorphic  tendency  in  such  matters; 
but  it  is  only  since  Hume's  day  that  any  detailed  study 
of  this  tendency  has  been  made  possible.36  Investiga- 
tion into  the  life,  customs,  folk-lore,  and  psychology 
of  savage  peoples,  by  means  of  the  new  sciences  of 
ethnology  and  anthropology,  has  provided  us  with  a 
better  means  of  understanding  our  past  selves.  It  has 
shown  that  if  evolution  has  carried  us  beyond  the  folk 
of  the  jungle  and  the  wild,  our  heritage  yet  remains 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  I  419 

the  same  as  theirs.  We  are  taught  to  realize  not  only 
that  what  savages  are,  we  ourselves  have  been,  but 
also  that  under  certain  influences  we  may  even  become 
as  savages  again.  Myth,  legend,  fairy-lore,  may  all 
have  importance  when  pressed  into  the  service  of  the 
anthropologist.  His  theories  have  so  far  been  broadly 
general,  but  every  day  adds  to  the  material  at  his  dis- 
posal, and  by  means  of  this  material  his  work  will  be 
found  to  cast  much  light  upon  our  present  problems. 
The  special  relation  of  anthropological  and  ethnologi- 
cal material,  to  the  material  of  this  study,  forms  the 
final  and  not  the  least  important  section  of  our  task. 

We  have  endeavored  to  give  the  student  a  proper 
preparation  in  order  that  he  may  grasp  the  full 
significance  of  ethnological  comparison.  Having  fol- 
lowed the  development  of  the  religious  self-study 
in  literature,  together  with  the  main  psychological 
influences  controlling  it  and  its  data,  we  are  better 
able  to  observe  the  important  parallels  and  to  draw  the 
requisite  conclusions.  We  look  abroad  upon  the  gen- 
eral scientific  achievements  in  this  field,  and  connect 
those  minor  fluctuations  on  which  his  gaze  has  been 
concentrated  with  the  large  movements  of  univer- 
sal law. 

During  the  last  half-century,  the  ethnologist  has 
provided  us  with  a  new  means  of  accomplishing  this 
end.  In  his  treatise — now  become  classic — on  "Primi- 
tive Culture,"  Dr.  Tylor  demonstrates  the  remain- 
ing links  between  the  remote  and  the  visible  past. 
Custom  and  folk-lore,  which  are  examined  by  him  with 
a  masterly  fulness,  are  shown  to  retain  these  links 


420  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

when  any  individual  development  may  have  hroken 
them.  Through  this  mass  of  material  his  own  theories 
on  the  subject  of  animism  take  shape  in  a  manner 
deeply  convincing.  Tylor,  of  course,  does  not  attempt 
to  carry  them  into  the  ages  where  they  might  be  con- 
firmed from  one's  own  reading  or  experience.  Later 
investigation,  however,  may  lead  us  to  this  confirma- 
tion, by  causing  us  to  mark  the  effect  of  the  data 
furnished  by  the  confessant,  on  the  theory  of  animism. 
Laid  side  by  side,  the  savage  and  the  civilized  ex- 
amples are,  indeed,  striking,  not  because  they  differ 
so  much,  but  because  they  differ  so  little. 

Dr.  Tylor37  alludes  to  ''that  vast  quiet  change, " 
which  has  overtaken  the  educated  world ;  and  in  sup- 
port of  his  words  points  to  the  disappearance  of 
Fetichism,  Demonology,  Idolatry,  from  the  societies  of 
men.  No  thoughtful  person  would  willingly  dissent 
from  such  authority ;  yet  the  student  of  the  records  of 
confessions  finds  it  set  at  naught  upon  every  other 
page.  A  new  and  startling  turn  is  thereby  lent  to  this 
investigation.  If  the  evidence  contributed  by  the 
confessant  appears  to  contradict  the  statement  of  a 
"vast  quiet  change"  in  the  world's  history,  by  what 
means  does  it  do  so  ?  And  what  is  the  full  import  of 
such  a  contradiction? 

In  making  any  attempt  to  answer  these  questions, 
the  reader  will  not  have  forgotten  that  the  Introduc- 
tion to  this  work  warned  him  of  its  inductive 
plan.  The  chapters  devoted  to  the  analysis  of  the  data, 
therefore,  must  needs  provide  him  with  a  means  of 
reply.  When  he  recalls  their  contents,  one  fact  will 
remain  clear,  namely — that  among  all  the  mystical  phe- 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  I  421 

nomena  which  they  describe,  there  is  none  peculiar 
to  Christianity.  It  will  also  be  shown  that  there  is 
none  which  may  not  also  be  found  among  men  in  a 
savage  and  semi-savage  state.38 

Such  an  assertion  is  not  made  without  due  appre- 
ciation of  what  is  involved;  and  thus  it  is  advisable 
to  go  more  into  detail  than  at  first  sight  appears  pro- 
portionate. This  is  the  very  crux  of  our  theme; 
here  are  comparisons  which  must  be  made  under 
the  reader's  own  eye.  There  may  be  little  new  in  the 
idea  that  Christianity,  plus  civilization,  has  literally 
brought  nothing  into  man's  emotional  religious  ex- 
perience which  he  did  not  possess  before,  yet  one  has 
only  to  lay  the  savage  examples  beside  the  serried 
ranks  of  confessants,  and  it  will  be  brought  home  to 
the  mind  with  an  overwhelming  freshness  and  force. 
The  essence  of  emotional  religion  (which  for  the  object 
of  the  present  enquiry  we  have  just  agreed  to  differ- 
entiate from  those  processes  evolving  intellectual  be- 
lief), the  stuff  of  this  feeling,  has  not  changed  since 
man  went  out  from  his  cave  to  slay  the  sabre-toothed 
tiger,  and  to  adore  the  stars  of  heaven.  Terror  and 
adoration  filled  him  then;  and  to  that  same  terror 
and  adoration  he  now  gives  alien  names. 

It  is  true,  that  then  he  was  able  to  observe  cause  and 
effect,  with  that  natural,  spontaneous  logic,  which  it 
was  one  of  the  direct  results  of  Christianity  to  de- 
stroy, and  which  he  has  not  yet  reconquered.  Thus, 
the  North  American  Indian,  noting  the  result  wrought 
upon  his  imagination  by  fasting,  deliberately  prac- 
tised it  with  that  end  in  view.39  Having  observed  that 
the  gods  revealed  themselves  to  him  whose  hunt  was 


422  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

unsuccessful,  and  whose  belt  was  tightly  drawn  against 
the  pangs  of  hunger,  he  required  that  the  education 
of  his  tribal  seer  or  medicine-man  should  be  founded 
on  fasting.40  This  is  the  statement  of  Chingwauk, 
the  Algonquin  chief;  and  also  of  Catherine  Wabose, 
the  Ojibway  prophetess.  In  North  Queensland,  the 
seer  starves  himself  for  three  or  four  days,  or  until 
he  sees  a  spirit.41  The  priests  of  the  Gold-Coast 
negroes  are  well  aware  that  an  empty  stomach  pro- 
duces hallucinations.  Hence  persons  who  desire  to 
consult  the  gods  are  enjoined  to  fast,  while,  at  times, 
drugs  also  are  administered.42  If  the  Mussulman  of 
Morocco  wishes  to  raise  a  djinn,  he  retires  for  twelve 
days  into  a  desert  place  to  fast,  purifying  himself  by 
bathing,  while  he  burns  perfumes  and  recites  incanta- 
tions. After  a  time,  a  huge  dragon  will  appear  to 
him;  and  if  he  is  not  frightened,  it  will  be  followed 
by  other  visions.43  In  neighboring  localities,  the  proc- 
ess is  varied  by  the  neophyte  repeating  a  single 
chapter  of  the  Koran  one  thousand  and  one  times.44 
Similar  practices  are  mentioned  by  Tylor,  who  adds 
that,  as  late  as  the  Greeks,  the  Pythia  of  Delphi  fasted 
to  obtain  inspiration.45  King  Saul,  we  read,  was 
weak  from  fasting  during  his  visit  to  the  Witch  of 
Endor ;  nor  are  we  surprised  at  the  success  of  her  en- 
chantments in  raising  Samuel's  spirit,  when  it  is  re- 
membered that  Saul  had  been  subject  to  a  very  defi- 
nite form  of  melancholia,  with  delusions.46  So  early 
as  the  story  of  Saul,  there  is  thus  a  manifest  attempt 
to  ignore  fasting  as  the  cause  of  vision.  By  Chris- 
tian times  it  was  ignored  altogether,  though  prac- 
tised yet  more  frequently.  When  it  is  stated  that 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  I  423 

the  Bogomils47  fasted  until  they  beheld  the  Trinity, 
a  modern  investigator  sees  in  this  observation  but 
proof  of  the  doubling  or  tripling  effect  of  hallu- 
cination, a  stage  perfectly  familiar  to  an  intoxi- 
cated person.  The  saints  and  mystics  of  the  Middle 
Ages  were  equally  subject  to  the  effects  of  fasting,  but 
to  them  it  seemed  only  a  means  of  subduing  the  flesh, 
of  releasing  the  spirit.  Jerome,  in  his  * '  Letters, ' '  re- 
marks that  excessive  fasting  impaired  the  faculties 
of  many  saintly  hermits ; 48  and  this  acknowledg- 
ment shows  an  attitude  differing  from  that  he  dis- 
played when  a  greater  zeal  and  heat  somewhat  modi- 
fied his  natural  shrewdness.  Teresa,  watching  and 
fasting  in  her  incense-filled  chapel,  does  not  attrib- 
ute the  ensuing  visions  to  either  of  these  circum- 
stances. Loyola  did  not  connect  his  abstinence  and 
great  physical  weakness  with  that  apparition  "of  a 
serpent  shining  with  what  looked  like  eyes,  hanging 
in  the  air  beside  him,"  or  with  the  later  vision  of  "a 
triple  plectrum."  To  such  as  these  a  fast  was  simply 
one  of  the  means  of  preparation  for  such  experi- 
ences, while  to  think  it  the  cause  would  be  an  in- 
finite dishonor  to  the  spirit. 

The  influence  of  Christian  doctrines  in  leading  the 
mind  away  from  logical  inference,  may  also  be  noticed 
when  comparing  Christian  records  with  savage  cus- 
toms concerning  the  production  of  visions  by  the  use 
of  drugs  or  wine.  Thus,  the  Winnebago  tribes  and 
the  Celebs  of  Guyana,49  were  accustomed  to  undergo 
exciting  conditions  much  resembling  the  camp-meet- 
ings described  by  such  participants  as  Peter  Cart- 
wright,  Billy  Bray,  Daniel  Young,  C.  G.  Finney,  and 


424  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

several  individuals  among  the  Mormons.  Two  con- 
versions on  our  lists  were  the  direct  result  of  intoxica- 
tion ; 50  but,  of  course,  they  are  not  so  acknowledged. 
Delirium  from  fever  is  responsible  for  several  other 
examples,  who  were  equally  bent  upon  ascribing  them 
to  a  supernatural  cause.  Various  writers  upon  mys- 
tical compromise  dwell  enthusiastically  on  what  they 
consider  to  be  the  great  and  essential  differences  be- 
tween such  cases  as  these  and  the  savage  examples; 
but  an  honest  mind  finds  it  impossible  altogether  to 
ignore  the  fundamental  proposition  that  things  which 
are  equal  to  the  same  thing  are  equal  to  each  other. 

"The  joy  that  was  unspeakable  and  glorious "  which 
exalted  Robert  Blair,  after  the  milk-posset;  the  "ter- 
ror of  death"  which  copious  draughts  "of  a  sweet 
liquor  called  shrub"  roused  in  the  lad,  John  Conran, 
were  paralleled  without  the  slightest  hesitation  by 
the  American  Indian,  by  the  Parsee,  by  the  Hindu 
priest,  who  used  the  same  means  for  the  deliberate 
purpose  of  exciting  just  such  sensations  and  their  ac- 
companying visions.51  The  medieval  Christian  had 
forgotten  the  practice  of  inducing  religious  ecstasy 
by  swoon,  or  convulsion,  or  fever;  which  belonged 
originally  to  savagery.52 

Those  phenomena  of  ecstasy,  to  which  considera- 
tion has  been  given  in  other  sections  of  this  book,  are 
supplemented  by  the  data  of  the  anthropologist  in  a 
manner  very  striking.  Particularly  do  such  data 
comment  on  the  belief  that  ecstasy  was  ' '  a  wandering 
of  the  other  Self,  or  Soul,"  which,  upon  its  return  to 
the  body,  could  tell  of  its  adventures.53  The  belief 
that  the  soul  could  leave  the  body  involved  the  belief 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  I  425 

in  its  separate  existence;  and,  though  the  develop- 
ment of  an  individual  soul-consciousness  is  late  in 
human  evolution,64  yet  this  special  form  must  have 
been  influenced,  if  not  fed,  by  contact  with  the  beliefs 
of  peoples  still  in  the  savage  and  primitive  state. 

The  Australian  natives55  hold  that  the  soul  quits 
the  body  during  sleep;  while  the  Arab  regards  its 
absence  as  a  great  danger,  never  awakening  a  sleeper 
without  an  invocation  to  God  to  recall  the  errant 
soul.56  The  Eskimo  thinks  that  his  spirit  goes  a-hunt- 
ing  while  he  lies  asleep  or  in  a  trance.57  If  the  soul 
of  the  Solomon  Islander  fails  to  return  by  morning, 
the  man  dies ;  but  on  reaching  the  mouth  of  Panoi,  or 
Hades,  the  soul  may  be  "hustled  back"  by  the  other 
ghosts  and  so  returned  to  the  sleeper  or  sick  person.58 
Tylor  cited  the  Dyaks,  the  Zulu,  the  Khond,  and  the 
Turanian,  as  holding  similar  beliefs;  and  takes  occa- 
sion to  compare  them  with  the  later  cases  of  Socrates 
and  Jerome  Cardan.59  Noting  the  popular  expres- 
sion of  "beside  one's  self "  as  "crystallizing  this  idea 
in  language,"  he  adds,  "that  the  mere  evolution  of 
the  idea  of  the  soul  from  a  concrete,  substantial  image 
of  the  person  (eidolon)  to  the  tenuous,  spiritualized 
abstraction  used  at  present,  is  the  result  of  gradual 
development  from  the  conception  of  primitive,  savage 
animism. ' ' 60 

That  early  and  deeply  rooted  conviction  that  the 
soul  could  leave  its  owner,  has  a  vital  bearing  on  the 
present  discussion.  In  all  the  words  and  works  of  the 
mystics  its  persistence  is  revealed.  Whatever  mean- 
ings the  theorist  has  attached  to  these  words  and 
works,  whatever  transcendental  web  he  has  tried  to 


426  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

spin  from  them, — when  all  the  threads  are  carefully 
unwound,  this  one  fact  alone  will  be  found  lying  at 
the  heart.  The  early  mystic  is  impregnated  with  this 
conviction  of  the  wandering  soul ;  it  underlies  his  ex- 
perience; it  is  the  real  basis  of  his  belief  in  mysti- 
cism. If  we  turn  to  the  great  passages  upon  which 
mysticism  is  founded,  what  do  we  find?  Richard  of 
St.  Victor's  famous  statement  is  on  close  analysis, 
seen  to  be  only  this, — that  he  believed  his  soul  could 
be  "away."  Augustin's  reliance  is,  after  all,  but 
upon  that  great  "if"  the  soul  might  be  "away." 
The  texts  cited  by  Dante,  in  the  letter  to  Can  Grande, 
serve  to  show  his  appreciation  of  the  fact  that  the  soul 
can  be  "away."  "It  seems  to  the  ecstatic,"  writes 
Teresa,  "that  he  is  transported  to  a  region  wholly  dif- 
ferent from  that  where  we  find  ourselves  ordinar- 
ily. ' ' 61  And  if  we  ask  them  to  define,  to  separate,  and 
determine  this  conviction,  what  is  their  response  ?  One 
and  all,  without  a  single  important  exception,  dwell 
on  the  significant  fact  that  their  soul  may  not 
remember  what  has  happened  to  it  during  its  ab- 
sence. Paul,  even,  "heard  unspeakable  words  which 
it  is  not  lawful  for  a  man  to  utter."62  Angela  da 
Foligno  says,  "I  know  not  how  to  speak  of  it,  nor  to 
offer  any  similitude."68  This  failure  of  memory  is 
not  capricious  and  accidental;  it  is  a  fundamental 
characteristic  of  the  mystical  experience,  and  taken  by 
the  subject  to  be  the  confirmation  of  its  Divine  nature. 
The  conclusion  is  thus  forced  upon  one  that  the  whole 
structure  of  mediaeval  mysticism  is  erected  upon  this 
underlying,  primitive,  and  animistic  belief,  that  the 
mystic  thus  unconsciously  repeats  and  confirms  the 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  I  427 

savage  idea.  The  Eskimo,  the  Zulu,  the  Dyak  priest, 
does  not  expect  to  remember  what  happened  to  his 
soul  when  it  went  away.  But  the  mystic  is  naively 
astonished  that  he  should  not  remember,  and  im- 
mediately concludes  that  this  is  because  of  the  in- 
conceivable splendor  of  what  he  beheld  in  Paradise. 
"For  the  comprehension  of  these  things,"  writes 
Dante,  "it  must  be  understood  that  when  the  human 
intellect  is  exalted  in  this  life  ...  it  is  exalted  to 
such  a  degree  that  after  its  return  the  memory  waxeth 
feeble,  because  it  hath  transcended  human  bounds. ' ' 6* 
Dante  was  undoubtedly  familiar  with  Richard  of  St. 
Victor,  whose  remark  is,  "that  we  cannot  by  any 
means  recall  to  our  memory  those  things  which  we 
have  erst  seen  above  ourselves."  Teresa  accounted 
for  this  fact  by  observing  that  in  a  state  of  ecstasy, 
God  draws  the  soul  to  himself,  but  not  the  faculties  of 
memory  and  understanding.  She  further  compares 
the  ecstatic  condition  to  that  of  a  person  half-awake. 
John  of  the  Cross  declares  that  this  loss  of  memory 
during  ecstasy  is  a  proof  of  its  Divine  character,  as 
well  as  a  warning  to  men  to  waste  no  time  on  the  cul- 
tivation of  a  faculty  so  little  god-like  as  their  useless 
memory.65 

One  hardly  expects  the  savage  to  reason  respect- 
ing his  simple,  elementary  beliefs;  but  the  con- 
spicuous failure  of  men  highly  developed,  to  do  so,  is 
one  of  the  reminders  of  the  complexity  of  our  evolu- 
tion. To  the  savage,  dreams  became  confounded  with 
memories,  and  if  no  dream  told  him  what  had  be- 
fallen his  absent  spirit,  then  he  simply  did  not  look 
for  any  further  news  of  its  wanderings.  Mediaeval 


428  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

Christianity,  on  the  other  hand,  not  satisfied  with  the 
dream-interpretation,  yet  by  no  means  rejecting  it, 
proceeded  to  make  for  itself  fresh  mystery  out  of  the 
fact  of  not  remembering  what  had  never  happened. 
To  our  irreverent  and  direct  logic  of  to-day,  the  ex- 
planation is  so  simple  that  one  is  almost  ashamed  to 
offer  it,  as  savoring  of  banality.  But  to  make  the 
plain  inference  that  one  could  not  recall  what  had 
happened  to  him  when  asleep,  or  entranced,  only  be- 
cause there  was  really  nothing  to  recall,  was  an  im- 
possibility to  the  mind  of  the  Middle  Ages. 

The  mystic  easily  supplemented  his  vague  andi 
cloudy  dream-recollections  with  inventions,  the  crea- 
tions of  a  powerful  imagination  colored  by  his  anthro- 
pomorphic inheritance.  From  Hildegarde  of  Bingen 
to  Swedenborg  and  Joseph  Smith,  the  entire  group  of 
so-called  revelations  is  the  literary  result  of  this  tend- 
ency. All  these  seers  and  visionaries  felt  that  the  soul 
was  at  times  ' '  away, ' '  and  so  felt  because  such  a  belief 
has  its  root  in  the  primeval  depths  of  emotional  exist- 
ence. Naturally  it  followed,  for  them,  that  since  the 
soul  can  leave  the  body,  it  has  a  separate  being, — a 
separate  identity.  Thus  the  situation  of  the  mediaeval 
or  modern  visionary  becomes  closely  linked  to  that  of 
the  savage  visionary.  Gertrude  of  Eisleben,  Teresa, 
Maria  d'Agreda,  stretched  stiff  and  entranced  before 
their  awestricken  followers,  were  not  there — in  the 
rigid  body — they  were  "away."  They  were  travers- 
ing the  height  of  heaven  or  the  depth  of  hell ;  after  a 
while  they  would  return,  vaguely  to  hint  at  what 
they  had  seen.  For  many  centuries  the  hints  have 
been  identical,  and  when  developed  subsequently,  the 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  I  429 

details  have  been  similar.68  This  bulk  of  repeated 
experience  formed,  gradually  but  surely,  a  general  im- 
pression, on  which  in  time  was  built  a  resultant 
dogma. 

"The  experience  of  man/'  writes  a  modern  ethnolo- 
gist, "is  gained  from  oft-repeated  impressions.  It  is 
one  of  the  fundamental  laws  of  psychology  that  the 
repetition  of  mental  processes  increases  the  facility 
with  which  these  processes  are  performed  and  de- 
creases the  degree  of  consciousness  that  accompanies 
them.  This  law  expresses  the  well-known  phenomena 
of  habit  ...  If  a  stimulus  has  often  produced  a  cer- 
tain emotion,  it  will  tend  to  reproduce  it  every 
time. " 67  No  generalization  could  describe  more  ac- 
curately the  progress  of  the  phenomena  of  ecstasy  and 
trance.  Their  subjects  found  these  states  occurring 
with  an  ever-increasing  facility.  Repetition,  decreas- 
ing the  degree  of  consciousness  by  which  such  phe- 
nomena were  accompanied,  assisted  to  induce  that 
very  disuniting  process,  which  operated  upon  person- 
ality as  the  result  of  a  new,  disintegrating  force. 
Repetition,  developing  the  power  of  the  association 
of  ideas,  developing  the  imagination  along  lines  of  fear 
and  horror,  elaborated  the  first  and  simpler  ideas  into 
images  incredibly  hideous  and  terrible.  The  fiend 
became  a  familiar  house-mate  to  the  anchorite ; 68  evil 
came  to  possess  a  vitality  and  animation  all  its  own. 
That  "hell-vision,"  tormenting  the  confessant  in  all 
its  dreadful  imagery  of  fire  and  torture,  had  grown 
far  more  vivid  than  ever  was  the  savage  idea  of  an 
Otherworld.  It  has  been  remarked  that  in  Celtic 
countries  the  place  after  death  was  one  of  rest  and 


430  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

peace,  until  Christianized  into  a  heaven  and  a  hell.69 
The  Huron  and  the  Hindu  Otherworld  was  but  a 
milder  hell,  and  the  legend  of  descent  into  it  was 
revived  by  Christian  dogmatists.70  Thus  did  Chris- 
tianity, in  Tylor's  phrase,  "borrow  details  from  the 
religions  it  abolished. ' ' 71  Thus  did  the  Christian  con- 
fessant  repeat,  with  a  new  accent  of  intensity,  emo- 
tions rooted  within  him,  centuries  before  the  Chris- 
tian era.  Thus,  from  the  simple,  savage  observation 
that  the  soul  apparently  left  the  body  in  sleep  or 
trance,  there  was  evolved  that  vast,  cloudy,  and  per- 
plexing structure  of  mediaeval  mysticism. 

1 1  To  follow  the  course  of  animism  on  from  its  more 
primitive  stages,"  proceeds  Tylor,  "is  to  account  for 
much  of  mediaeval  and  modern  opinion,  whose  mean- 
ing and  reason  could  hardly  be  comprehended  without 
the  aid  of  a  development-theory  of  culture,  taking  in 
the  various  processes  of  new  formation,  abolition,  sur- 
vival, and  revival. ' ' 72  Investigation  into  the  data  of 
the  individual  confirms  these  words,  both  in  general 
outline  and  in  particular  detail.  Much  more  than 
opinion  will  be  found  to  be  accounted  for  by  careful 
comparative  study.  How  enlightening  to  any  view 
of  the  mediaeval  mystic  it  is  to  read  that  the  Moham- 
medan distinguishes  between  the  saint  and  the  sor- 
cerer, only  when  the  miracles  performed  by  the  first 
have  a  moral  aim!  In  other  respects,  he  considers 
them  the  same;  and  certain  Islamic  doctors  even  go 
so  far  as  to  deny  the  reality  of  sorcery,  holding  it  but  a 
sort  of  saintship  gone  wrong.73  The  sanctity  of  these 
medicine-men  renders  them  in  a  measure  fatal ; — their 
bodies  are  held  to  be  full  of  poison  and  perilous 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  I  431 

forces; — "nouvelle  preuve,"  observes  the  collector  of 
these  superstitions,  "du  caractere  equivoque  des 
choses  sacrees."74 

This  likeness  between  Christian  and  Mussulman 
holy  man,  between  hermit  and  marabout,  vouches  for 
the  persistence  in  human  nature  of  impulses  which 
were  long  antecedent  to  opinion.  There  is  little  need 
to  repeat  those  examples  which  crowd  the  pages  of 
the  anthropologist,  carrying  this  truth  into  further 
minuteness  of  detail.  Examples  are  drawn  from  sav- 
age times  of  beliefs  which  remained  "in  fullest  vigour 
through  the  classic  world,"  and  which  to-day  are  in 
full  vigor  among  the  natives  of  the  Congo.75  The 
nymph  and  dryad  of  the  Greek,  or  the  lares  of  the 
Roman,  would  arouse  no  surprise  in  the  Eskimo,  or 
the  African  negro,  who  knows  that  rivers,  wells,  and 
trees  have  each  their  "kra,"  or  indwelling  spirit.76 

The  Pythia  of  Delphi  has  abandoned  her  classic 
shrine,  but  the  same  god  to-day  speaks  to  his  votaries 
through  the  foaming  and  convulsions  of  the  medicine- 
man in  the  African  jungles,77  and  the  poor  savage 
is  lent  a  touch  of  dignity  by  the  mere  possibility  of 
this  comparison.  The  peasant-belief  in  a  cottage- 
faery,78  in  a  Brownie,  or  a  Kobold,  seems  to  be  an 
attenuation  of  the  ancient  belief  in  an  attendant  or 
household-spirit.  The  patron-saints  of  Peter  Favre, 
of  Therese  of  the  Holy  Child,  or  of  Carlo  da  Sezze, 
who  watched  over  them  in  their  daily  lives,  at  once 
become  figures  more  comprehensible,  imaginatively 
complete,  and  ready  to  receive  the  decorative  treat- 
ment by  which  the  Italian  painters  gave  them  a  new 
immortality.  The  child-mind  of  the  world  delighted 


432  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

in  delicate  picturings  of  these  beloved,  sacred  figures. 
How  often  do  the  visions — in  their  decorative  qual- 
ity— remind  us  of  the  visions  of  faery !  Gertrude  of 
Eisleben  makes  note  of  the  Saviour's  garland,  and  his 
gold-embroidered  tunic.  The  blue  robe  of  the  Virgin 
is  the  blue  of  the  sky.  To  a  child,  is  not  a  faery- 
vision  always  crystal-clear  and  glittering?  And  the 
Lord  appeared  to  Teresa,  white  as  snow  and  clear  as 
crystal.79  If  only  in  our  imaginations,  our  child- 
hood yet  remains  with  us. 

Alas,  that  it  remains  with  us  not  only  in  these 
charming  ways;  for  we  are  often  closer  to  the  Gold- 
Coast  negro  than  we  should  like  to  think.  When  the 
director  of  Mary  of  the  Angels  "commanded"  her 
disease  to  disappear,  psychologists  tell  us  that  he  made 
use  of  the  power  of  suggestion  upon  a  highly  sensitive 
subject.  Ethnologists  add,  that  this  priest  stood  in 
the  same  relation  to  the  suffering  mystic  as  the  Zulu 
medicine-man  toward  his  patient,  when  he  exorcized 
the  evil  spirit  believed  to  cause  the  disease.80  The 
rite  is  derived  from  those  cloudy  ages  when  all  ills 
were  ascribed  to  the  action  on  our  bodies  of  an  evil 
demon ; 81  nor  does  the  reader  need  to  be  reminded 
that  exorcism  is  frequently  mentioned  both  in  the  Old 
and  the  New  Testaments.  Hysteria  and  epilepsy 
were  maladies  lending  themselves  readily  to  the  ex- 
planation of  demoniacal  possession ;  and  against  these 
attacks  exorcism  continued  to  be  constantly  and  pro- 
fessionally practised  until  late  in  the  seventeenth 
century.  Comparative  study  is  here  peculiarly  sug- 
gestive. Among  the  Melanesians,  a  witch-doctor 
will  call  upon  the  sufferer  by  name,  and  the 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  I  433 

demon,  with  a  strange  voice,  will  answer; — "It  is  not 
he,  it  is  I ! "  82  So  the  Pere  Surin— unfortunate  * '  man 
of  God" — interrogated  the  possessed  Jeanne  des 
Anges,  and  the  fiend,  replying,  named  himself,  Isa- 
caaron.  The  miserable  nuns  of  Loudun  and  Louviers 
are  described  as  undergoing  the  identical  experience 
of  the  Zulu,  the  Basuto,  and  the  Patagonian. 

' '  During  the  early  centuries  of  Christianity, ' '  com- 
ments Tylor,  "demoniacal  possession  becomes  pecul- 
iarly conspicuous  .  .  .  because  a  period  of  intense 
religious  excitement  brought  it  more  than  usually  into 
requisition."83  To  this  prevalence  and  its  signifi- 
cance, we  shall  again  return;  at  the  moment  we  shall 
but  emphasize  the  periodical  nature  of  the  possession- 
delusion,  and  the  accompanying  rite  of  exorcism. 

Says  a  keen  student:  "Beliefs  change,  but  rites 
persist,  as  the  fossil  shell  serves  to  date  for  us  the 
geological  epoch." 84  Lest  we  be  at  any  time  tempted 
to  glory  in  the  so-called  freedom  from  these  supersti- 
tions, let  us  further  examine  the  history  of  this  espe- 
cial delusion. 

Lecky  observes  that  "From  the  time  of  Justin 
Martyr,  for  about  two  centuries,  there  is  not  a  single 
Christian  writer  who  does  not  solemnly  and  explicitly 
assert  the  reality  and  frequent  employment  of  this 
power. " 85  It  was  specifically  connected  with  the 
entire  system  of  miracles,  so  influential  over  the 
Christian  convert's  mind.86  The  letters  and  trea^ 
tises  of  the  Fathers  are  filled  with  narratives  of  the 
casting-out  of  devils;  while  a  few  centuries  later, 
Guibert,  Othloh,  Glaber,  Luther,  testify  to  the  vivid 
existence  of  such  beliefs.  Still  later  come  the  Salem 


434,  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

and  the  Scottish,  witch-trials,  through  which  this  gro- 
tesque horror  is  carried  into  our  own  country  and  al- 
most to  our  own  day.87 

Nor  has  our  own  day  escaped  this  savage  phe- 
nomenon. The  history  of  the  Mormon  performances 
at  Kirtland  and  in  New- York  State,  is  striking  when 
the  surroundings  and  native  characters  are  con- 
sidered. ' '  In  April,  1830, ' '  says  the  official  chronicle, 
"the  devil  was  cast  out  of  Newell  Knight,  by  Joseph 
Smith,  Sr.  .  .  .  This  was  the  first  miracle  done  in 
this  church. "88  Smith's  account  is  detailed,  and 
unhesitating.  "I  went,  and  found  him  suffering  very 
much  in  his  mind,  and  his  body  acted  upon  in 
a  very  strange  manner,  his  visage  and  limbs 
distorted  and  twisted  in  every  shape  possible  to  im- 
agine. ...  I  succeeded  in  getting  hold  of  him  by  the 
hand,  when  almost  immediately  he  spoke  to  me,  and 
with  very  great  earnestness  required  of  me  that  I 
should  cast  the  devil  out  of  him.  ...  I  rebuked  the 
devil,  and  commanded  him  in  the  name  of  Jesus 
Christ  to  depart  from  him,  when  immediately  Newell 
spoke  out  and  said  that  he  saw  the  devil  leave  him 
and  vanish  from  his  sight. "  On  cross-examination  as 
to  the  fiend's  appearance,  Knight  admitted  that  the 
image  was  hallucinatory;  "a  spiritual  sight,  and  spir- 
itually discerned." 89 

Hysterical  epidemic  soon  followed  scenes  like  these. 
Delirium,  with  outbreaks  of  "the  jerks"  and  the 
"shakes,"  ran  riot  through  these  communities.  The 
point  of  view  of  the  individual  sufferer,  under  such 
influences,  relapsed  at  once  to  the  savage,  or  semi- 
savage,  level;  and  in  these  hard-headed  American 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  I  435 

pioneers,  we  can  find  no  jot  of  resemblance  to  our- 
selves.90 Writes  Elder  Kimball  in  his  journal: 
"I  ...  could  distinctly  see  the  evil  spirits,  who 
foamed  and  gnashed  their  teeth  upon  us.  We  gazed 
upon  them  about  an  hour  and  a  half."  Elder  Hyde 
fought  a  host  of  demons  who  nearly  choked  him  to 
death,  and  describes91  the  conflict  in  terms  which 
would  have  been  wholly  comprehensible  to  Guibert  de 
Nogent,  or  Jeanne  des  Anges,  or  poor  little  Marie  de  S. 
Sacrement,  or  Jeanne  Fery.92  In  1844,  in  Virginia, 
the  Mormon  elders  contended  with  a  crowd  of  evil 
spirits  for  the  possession  of  three  young  girls,  alter- 
nately exorcising  and  re-exorcising  these  demons,  un- 
til becoming  exhausted.  In  another  case,  the  exor- 
cists were  themselves  attacked,  just  as  Pere  Surin  had 
been.  Similar  outbreaks  of  demoniacal  possession  and 
the  effort  to  control  it  by  exorcism,  are  noted  in 
Switzerland  as  late  as  1861,83  and  in  China  even 
later.94 

When  the  confessant  "makes  vows,"  offers  pro- 
pitiatory sacrifice,  or  concludes  a  "covenant  with  God" 
by  which  his  agony  and  distress  are  relieved,  he  but 
blindly  follows  in  the  tread  of  his  savage  ancestor,  who, 
like  the  Bodo  or  Congo  chieftain,  tried  to  "buy  off" 
the  hostile  spirits.95  A  higher  form  of  this  practice 
will  be  found  among  the  early  Romans  and  Jews. 
Sacrifice  was  recommended  to  Job  as  a  means  of  atone- 
ment for  his  revolt;  but  the  literature  of  sacrifice  is 
too  full  to  be  dealt  with  in  this  place.  In  Rome, 
"A  prayer  was  a  vow  (votum)  in  return  for  cer- 
tain specified  services  to  be  rendered.  Were  they 


436  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

rendered,  man  was  compos  voti — bound  to  perform 
what  he  had  promised.  Were  they  not  rendered,  the 
contract  was  void.  Sometimes  in  a  crisis  the  god  was 
bound  in  advance  by  a  devotio,  or  sacrifice.  The  priest 
held  the  position  of  legal  intermediary. ' ' 96 

The  attitude  of  the  Christian  confessant  toward 
his  Saviour  is  less  presuming  in  its  form ;  we  shall  see 
if  it  actually  lacked  presumption.  One  case  "directly 
covenanted  with  God  for  a  return  of  health."  In 
several  others,  the  mere  expectation  of  tranquillity 
to  be  secured  by  such  a  covenant  was  sufficient  to 
secure  it;  further  evidence,  if  need  be,  of  the  power 
of  suggestion.  Although  God  is  not  directly  stated 
to  be  the  party  of  the  second  part,  yet  he  was  con- 
sidered as  bound  by  the  contract  in  question.97 

Any  attempt  at  comparative  study  of  primitive  and 
modern  mystical  phenomena,  and  the  beliefs  derived 
therefrom,  will  be  incomplete  without  a  comparative 
examination  of  the  primitive  and  the  modern  sacred 
personality.  The  change  in  attitude  toward  such 
personalities  has  been  fundamental,  yet  its  evolution 
is  traceable  from  the  primitive  to  the  mediaeval  times. 
Mediaeval  opinion — our  confessants  tell  us — regarded 
the  hysterical  as  divine,  the  idiot  as  sacred.  To-day 
the  tendency  is  exactly  opposite;  many  regard  the 
divine  as  only  hysterical,  and  the  saint  as  a  harmless 
sort  of  idiot.  The  Middle  Ages  set  aside  for  saint- 
ship  those  individuals  displaying  abnormal  mental 
signs;  just  as  the  Zulu  to-day  selects  his  priest.98 
Among  the  Patagonians,  epileptics  are  immediately 
chosen  for  magicians;  while  the  Siberians  destine 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  I  437 

children  prone  to  convulsions  to  be  brought  up  in  the 
sacred  profession."  Nor  can  the  mystic  claim  a 
mental  superiority  over  these  cases;  whatever  their 
disciples  may  claim  for  them.  The  blessed  M.  M. 
Alacoque  could  take  care  of  herself  in  the  world  much 
less  well  than  any  Zulu  witch-doctor  that  we  have 
ever  read  of.  A  former  section  has  already  made 
note  of  the  complacent  mental  inferiority  of  such  fa- 
mous examples  as  Mme.  Guy  on,  A.  C.  Emmerich,  Maria 
d'Agreda,  Joanna  Southcott,  Joseph  Smith,  the  Mor- 
mon prophet;  while  even  Teresa,  Loyola,  and  Richard 
of  St.  Victor, — great  intellects  all  three, — considered 
the  ideal  state  as  one  much  closer  to  pure  idiocy  than 
they  could  ever  hope  to  attain.  Their  views  indicate 
the  still-dominant  influence  of  the  old  belief  in  the 
sacredness  of  the  fool. 

When  one  reads  of  certain  early  hermits,  and  later 
Quakers;  of  Juliana  of  Norwich,  or  of  Suso,  or  of 
Angela  da  Foligno;  one  knows  that  the  Patagonian 
priest,  or  the  Algerian  marabout,  would  not  have 
found  them  at  all  surprising  or  uncongenial.  By 
systematically  de-rationalizing  himself,  man  produces 
pretty  much  the  same  results  whatever  his  country, 
or  his  previous  degree  of  civilization.100  Plotinus's 
union  with  the  Divine  differs  comparatively  little,  after 
all,  from  the  attempt  of  Amiel  to  "possess  God." 
.With  the  savage,  the  semi-savage,  the  mediaeval  or  the 
modern  mystic,  the  abnormal  still  remains  the  proof 
of  the  supernatural,  still  retains  its  sacred  character. 
This  feeling  is  carried  into  various  minor  phenomena 
of  the  mystical  experience.  That  Voice, — sometimes 
called  of  God,  sometimes  of  the  departed, — the  Voice 


438  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

which  commanded  Fox  or  Augustin  or  Swedenborg 
or  Smith,  speaks  the  same  messages  in  the  ear  of  the 
Malay,  the  Algonquin,  or  the  New  Zealander;  and  is 
by  him  described  as  "a  low  mutter,  a  murmur,  or  a 
whistle." 101  Among  the  Abipones  the  hissing  of  little 
ducks  which  fly  at  night  is  taken  for  the  voices  of  the 
dead.102  The  Maori  priest  may  hear  the  voice  of  the 
ghostly  visitant,  and  comprehend  its  message,  though 
to  another  it  seems  only  the  low  sound  of  wind  pass- 
ing through  trees.103  Tylor  likens  this  sound  in  its 
quality  to  the  voices  of  the  dead  in  Homer,  where  it 
becomes  "a  thin  murmur  or  twitter."104  Shakspere 
wrote  that  "the  sheeted  dead  did  squeak  and  gibber  in 
the  Roman  streets."105  "The  still,  small  voice"  of 
Scripture  embodied  the  experience  of  the  whole  listen- 
ing world. 

Personal  testimony  heightens  for  the  student  the 
significant  quality  and  timbre  of  the  Voice.  All  ears 
have  heard,  all  nations  have  described  it.  Mahomet 
asks  to  be  delivered  "from  the  whisperer  who  slily 
withdraweth." 106  This  has  further  interest  in  connec- 
tion with  the  idea  that  "the  language  of  demons  is  also 
a  low  whistle  or  a  mutter,  and  that  devils  generally 
speak  low  and  confusedly. ' ' lor  Jerome  Cardan  heard 
the  sound  differently  at  different  times ;  on  one  impor- 
tant occasion  it  came  to  him  muffled,  "like  one  afar  off, 
confessing  to  a  priest."108  To  express  the  idea  of 
tenuity  or  bird-like  quality,  the  Hebrew  term  is 
"Batkol,"  or  "daughter  of  a  Voice."  This  well  de- 
fines the  curious  attribute  of  the  sound,  that  "it  mur- 
mured like  a  dove. ' ' 109  The  American  Indian  felt  it 
to  resemble  a  cricket,  rather  than  a  bird.110  Ancient 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  I  439 

Hebrew  writings  tell  that  the  holy  Elisha  ben  Abuya 
heard  the  Voice  <(  chirping "  behind  the  temple.  Who 
can  forget  the  intensity  of  the  prophet's  phrase  when 
he  says  that  "thy  Voice  shall  whisper  out  of  the 
dust?"111  while  many  examples  may  be  cited  from 
the  Bible  and  the  Talmud,  in  support  of  its  peculiar 
and  characteristic  timbre.  Cardan  held  the  old  belief 
that  this  Voice  belonged  to  a  personal  daemon,  and 
mentions  it  frequently.  With  him  it  was  wont  to 
grow  "to  a  tumult  of  voices";  just  as  among  the 
Jews  it  would  become  a  hum  or  reverberation. 
"Seek  unto  them,"  says  the  prophet,  "that  have 
familiar  spirits,  and  unto  wizards  that  peep  and  that 
mutter."  112  The  Voice  is  not  always  low,  though  it 
is  always  shrill;  at  times  it  is  very  loud.  To  the 
Friend  Elizabeth  Ashbridge,  it  came  "as  from  a 
trumpet";  while  to  Henry  Alline,  it  was  "still  and 
small,  through  my  whole  soul."  To  Joseph  Smith  it 
gave  a  call,  from  a  distance.  R.  Wilkinson  heard  "a 
dreadful  sound  in  his  ears,  which  he  thought  was  the 
adversary."  Augustin  remarks  that  he  "never  re- 
membered  to  have  heard  anything  at  all  like  it." 
Joseph  Hoag  heard  "as  plain  a  whisper  as  ever  I 
heard  from  a  human  being." 118 

There  would  be  interesting  speculation  for  the 
medical-materialist  in  linking  this  typical  Voice  with 
the  equally  typical  noises  present  in  cases  of  aural 
catarrh.114  These  are  reported  as  "ranging  from 
simple,  pulsating  murmurs  to  thundering  noises,  or 
reports  like  the  shot  of  pistol  or  cannon.  In  many 
cases  they  are  of  a  whistling  or  singing  character. 
.  .  .  They  may  be  constant,  intermittent,  or  recur- 


440  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

rent/'  The  writer  doubts  whether  they  "ever  as- 
sume the  form  of  spoken  language ";  suggesting  that 
"  those  who  seem  to  hear  voices  and  to  receive  mes- 
sages and  revelations,  probably  have  a  central  lesion 
of  the  cortex."115  The  occurrence  would  seem  too 
general  and  too  widespread  for  this  latter  explanation 
always  to  prevail;  but,  perhaps,  the  medical  means 
of  deciding  this  fact  are  not  sufficient  at  the  present 
time.  Cases  of  cortical  lesion  would  surely  present 
certain  definite,  pathological  symptoms;  whereas  the 
Voice  occurs  frequently  under  conditions  fairly  nor- 
mal, or  those  but  temporarily  abnormal.  A  more 
natural  condition  would  be  that  ignorant  humanity, 
finding  no  explanation  of  his  head-noises  other  than 
the  anthropomorphic  explanation  which  he  was  ac- 
customed to  attach  to  most  things,  took  them  to  mean 
the  flattering  attention  of  his  god  or  spirit.  Sooner 
or  later,  this  explanation  would  receive  an  apparent 
ratification  from  some  comrade  in  the  tribe  whose 
cortical  lesion  led  him  to  amplify  and  formulate  words 
for  the  Voice.  The  evolution  of  the  central  fact  of 
interior  whispering,  into  that  Voice  which  has  mur- 
mured or  thundered  down  the  ages,  might  be  therefore 
attributable,  as  so  much  else  in  our  past,  to  mere 
"misinterpreted  observation."  That  efforts  have 
been  made  for  a  true  explanation  is  shown  in  a  com- 
ment made  by  Burton,  in  the  "Anatomy  of  Melan- 
choly," when  he  is  dealing  with  the  delusions  caused 
by  echoes.  "Theophilus  (in  Galen)  thought  he 
heard  musick,  from  vapours  which  made  his  ears 
sound ' ' ; 116  writes  this  trenchant  observer.  The  qual- 
ity, the  timbre  of  the  Voice,  due  always,  however 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  I  441 

accounted  for,  to  identical  causes,  would  thus  remain 
characteristic. 

The  persistence  of  primitive  conceptions,  which  rest 
unchanged  throughout  the  ingenious  misinterpreta- 
tion of  the  centuries,  is  one  of  the  most  interesting 
of  our  mental  phenomena.  Their  original  connec- 
tions are  often  but  dimly  grasped  by  us  now,  if  they 
are  grasped  at  all.  Who  can  say  if  the  thinness  and 
delicacy  of  the  Voice,  whose  peculiar  timbre  has  just 
been  emphasized,  may  not  have  had  an  effect — by 
simple,  logical  inference — on  the  early  conceptions  of 
the  soul,  its  appearance  and  characteristics?  Tylor 
makes  no  comment  on  the  relation  between  the  primi- 
tive idea  of  the  smallness  of  the  soul,  and  the  thin- 
ness of  its  voice ;  but  the  idea  of  it  as  a  miniature  rep- 
lica of  the  body,  as  a  mannikin,  is  strangely  far- 
reaching.117 

The  Port-Lincoln  blacks  say  the  soul  is  so  small  it 
could  pass  through  a  chink, — and  hover  at  the  tops 
of  the  trees.  It  was  about  the  size  of  a  small 
child.118  Certain  Eskimos  hold  it  to  be  no  larger 
than  a  hand  or  a  finger;  while  the  Angmagsaliks  de- 
scribe it  as  ' '  a  tiny  man,  the  size  of  a  sparrow. ' ' 119 
J.  Gr.  Frazer  notes  that  it  is  regarded  as  a  dwarf, 
unanimously,  by  all  primitive  peoples.  In  the 
Egyptian  frescoes,  as  later,  in  the  Italian  (Orcagna), 
it  is  pictured  as  half  life-size,  often  winged,  or  bird- 
like,  floating  over  the  head  of  its  proprietor.120  What 
later  generations  took  for  naivete  of  drawing  in  these 
pictures,  is  seen  to  be  really  the  accurate  presentation 
of  a  prevailing  idea.  Careful  tracing  of  this  concep- 
tion leads  to  its  final  connection  with  that  group  of 


442  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

ideas,  sprung  from  animism,  imagining  a  guardian  or 
household  spirit.  Thus,  the  souls  of  the  dead  are, 
in  their  main  characteristics,  quite  indistinguishable 
from  the  beings  known  to  us  to-day  as  fairies.  They 
are  light,  flitting,  delicate,  and  capricious,  often 
malignant ;  like  the  'banshees  of  Ireland,  or  the  zombis 
of  Martinique.121  This  being,  protean  under  the 
imaginations  of  men,  is  sometimes  the  attendant  spirit, 
or  daemon,  or  genius ;  while  later  it  becomes  the  guar- 
dian angel  of  the  Middle  Ages.  Socrates  and  Philo, 
Brutus  and  Cardan,  are  holding  no  strange  beliefs, 
but  merely  sharing  the  popular  ideas  of  their  day.122 
No  whit  does  their  conception  differ  from  that  of  the 
Carib,  or  the  Mongol,  or  the  Tasmanian  native. 

Speculation  as  to  the  nature  of  these  details  is  not, 
however,  merely  of  a  curious  interest ;  it  is  with  mat- 
ter of  broader  analogy  that  we  have  to  deal.  So  rich 
is  the  corroborative  evidence  among  modern  exam- 
ples, as  among  savage  cases,  that  it  becomes  difficult 
not  to  overweight  the  page.  Individual  cases  demon- 
strate the  practical  identity  of  savage  and  civilized 
mystical  phenomena.  To  deny  it,  is  to  close  one 's  eyes 
to  fact;  to  shut  one's  mind  to  logic.  The  Khonds  of 
Arissa,  the  negroes  of  Guinea,  the  aborigines  of  Amer- 
ica and  Australia,  are  aided  or  tormented  by  crowds  of 
good  or  evil  spirits,  which  beset  their  path  precisely  as 
angels  and  demons  beset  the  path  of  Teresa,  of  Jeanne 
des  Anges,  of  Jeanne  de  St.  Mathieu  Deleloe,  of  Oth- 
loh,  of  Raoul  Glaber,  of  Mme.  Guyon,  of  Swedenborg, 
of  Joseph  Smith.  Vivid  testimony  to  the  belief  in 
incubi  and  succubi  will  be  found  in  the  witch-trials 
of  the  seventeenth  century,  the  selfsame  belief  pre~ 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  I  443 

vailing  among  the  natives  of  Samoa,  of  the  Antilles, 
or  of  New  Zealand.123  Apparitions,  whether  of  per- 
sons, white  and  glittering,  of  fiery  pillars,  or  clouds,  or 
points,124  is  no  more  a  Christian  belief  than  the  guar- 
dian-angel, or  the  "Voice  of  God,"  are  Christian  be- 
liefs. The  Christian  took  them  where  he  found  them, 
in  the  hearts  and  imaginations  of  the  simple  and  the 
humble,  of  folk  yet  close  to  primitive  feeling,  and 
adapted  them  to  his  needs  and  to  the  needs  of  his 
new  faith. 

The  confessant  may  have  evolved  beyond  the  savage 
in  the  matter  of  magical  rites ;  although  one  no  sooner 
makes  such  a  statement  than  he  is  shaken  by  reading 
in  the  newspaper  that  an  entire  community  in  the 
State  of  Pennsylvania  has  been  terrorized  by  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  gigantic  "hexe"  (witch)  cat, — killed 
finally  by  a  silver  bullet;  or  that  some  railroad  has 
been  disappointed  in  the  results  given  by  certain 
"dowsers"  or  diviners,  which  it  employed  to 
"dowse"  for  water.  The  visual  and  auditory  phe- 
nomena which  the  confessant  experiences,  is  associ- 
ated to-day  with  another  set  of  ideas;  these  have 
grown  more  complex  and  are  at  work,  moreover,  upon 
organizations  far  more  complex  and  far  more  sensitive. 
Deeper  and  more  profound  is  the  resultant  disinte- 
gration; but  we  who  read  must  not  forget  that  it  is 
this  result  and  not  the  original  cause  which  has 
changed.  Is  it  possible  to  read,  comparatively,  the 
experiences  narrated  by  Suso,  Hoag,  Linsley,  Grat- 
ton,  Jaco,  Blair,  Boston,  Swedenborg,  Smith,  Lobb, 
Richard  Rolle,  Juliana  of  Norwich,  Antoinette  Bour- 
ignon,  Carre  de  Montgeron,  George  Fox  (to  name  but 


444  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

few), — and  not  feel  a  deepening  conviction  of  their 
essentially  savage  character? 

The  hyper-suggestibility  among  moderns  has  been 
alleged  as  the  special  inducing  cause  of  the  intensity 
of  their  experience.  At  ceremonies  of  initiation  a 
similar  suggestibility  governs  the  Australian,  who  thus 
readily  beholds  strange  visions.125  His  medicine-man 
keeps  aloof  from  the  tribe,  practises  asceticism,  and 
is  as  wild  in  speech  and  look  as  any  Thebaid  hermit. 
When  about  to  assume  his  sacred  function,  he  goes 
alone  to  the  mouth  of  a  certain  cave,  where  he  fasts 
and  prays,  until  a  spirit  comes  and  pierces  his  tongue 
with  a  long  spear.126  This  wound  (it  is  photographed 
as  a  deep  hole  in  the  forepart  of  the  tongue)  is 
scarcely  healed  when  he  returns  to  the  tribe;  nor 
could  the  investigator  discover  that  he  ever  after 
acknowledged  it  to  have  been  made  by  himself  or  by  a 
comrade.  On  the  contrary,  he  persisted  in  saying 
and  in  believing  it  to  be  the  work  of  a  spirit. 
Our  modern  attitude  is  contemptuous  of  this  cre- 
dulity; yet  much  in  this  whole  experience  suggests 
the  phenomenon  of  the  stigmata.  Gorres  notes  that 
both  the  desire  to  possess  these  wounds  and  the  ex- 
pectation of  possessing  them  preceded  their  appear- 
ance in  the  hands  and  side  of  the  subject,127  and  cites 
the  instances  of  Veronique  Giuliani,  Margaret 
Ebnerin,  Liduine,  Jeanne  de  Jesu  Maria,  and  others. 
Naturally  we  tend  to  believe  more  in  our  own  medi- 
cine-men than  in  those  of  the  Australian  bushman,  yet 
in  examining  the  evidence  of  saintliness  it  were  well 
to  remember  that  things  which  are  equal  to  the  same 
thing  are  equal  to  each  other. 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  I  445 

In  his  chapters  on  "Mystical  Flight,"  Gorres  re- 
cords the  sensations  of  the  saint  as  being  rapidly  and 
dizzily  whirled  through  the  air.128  Several  confess- 
ants  support  this  description;  and  it  has  received 
much  attention  from  medical  and  psychological  au- 
thorities. This  is  hardly  the  place  "to  enumerate  their 
theories,  which  connect  it  either  with  reaction  from 
a  state  of  trance,  or  with  definite  epileptic  seizure. 
The  anthropologist  succeeds  in  convincing  us  that  the 
so-called  mystical  flight  is  not  alone  the  property  of 
the  Christian  mystic;  for  it  is  claimed  also  by  the 
Buddhist,  the  Brahman,  the  Neo-Platonist ; — and 
that,  in  fact,  belief  in  it  is  common  to  ascetics  of  all 
nations.129 

Those  fatal  and  sacred  properties  which  savage 
imaginations  attached  to  the  fetich,  seem  to  place  this 
idea  as  far  from  the  world  of  the  Sistine  Madonna  as 
the  custom  of  eating  raw  meat.  Many  confessants 
record  such  belief  in  full  activity,  and  no  farther 
than  our  own  times.  The  book  of  Mormon  refers  to 
"the  stone  called  Gazelem"  (sic)  which  Joseph  Smith 
carried  in  his  pocket,  and  by  whose  aid  he  was  able 
to  induce  a  slightly  hypnoid  state  in  the  gazer.  From 
the  description  of  this  sacred  "peep-stone,"  it  ap- 
pears to  have  been  nothing  more  nor  less  than  the 
broken  prism  of  an  old-fashioned  lustre  chandelier !  13° 
In  other  records  will  be  found  mention  of  sacred 
medals  and  pictures ; 1S1  Pascal  carried  his  amulet 
around  his  neck;  and  so  this  most  savage  of  all 
aboriginal  notions  manifests,  in  an  hundred  different 
ways,  its  extraordinary  persistency.  To  sum  up ;  not 
only  the  savage  and  the  medieval,  but  the  savage  and 


446  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

the  modern  religious  experience,  are  in  reality  so 
close,  that  the  mind  trained  in  the  search  for  truth 
will  find  the  differences  between  them  far  fewer  than 
the  resemblances. 


X 

THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  II 


I.  The  Middle  Ages;  survivals. 
II.  Revivals;  witchcraft. 

III.  Revival  in  the  individual. 

IV.  Explanation  of  phenomena;  the  "B-region";  Tabu  and 

the  Unpardonable  Sin. 
V.  Religion  a  collective  term. 
VI.  Recapitulation;  conclusion. 


X 

THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:   II 

THE  comparisons  contained  in  the  foregoing  section 
have  been  made  for  a  definite  purpose  and  in  the  in- 
terest of  a  definite  aim.  That  the  cited  experiences, 
one  and  all,  have  their  origin  deep  in  primal  emotion, 
would  seem  indisputable,  nor  is  it  unreasonable  to 
claim  for  them  a  distinct,  emotional  source.  True, 
religion  is  more  complex  to-day,  and  its  influence  over 
modern  life  is  wider  and  more  various;  yet  this  fact 
should  not  hide  for  us  its  emotional  origin.  If  this 
sentiment  was  not  always  what  it  is  to-day,  neither 
were  we  always  what  we  are  to-day;  the  change  is 
not  the  result  of  any  one  belief,  it  is  the  result  of  a 
gradual  maturity  of  the  human  mind. 

"In  the  life  of  the  rudest  savage,  religious  belief 
is  associated  with  intense  emotion,  with  awful  rever- 
ence, with  agonizing  terror,  with  rapt  ecstasy,  when 
sense  and  thought  utterly  transcend  the  common 
level  of  daily  life."1  Thus  writes  the  anthropolo- 
gist;— and  when  we  read  his  words,  many  of  us  feel 
a  gentle  glow  of  superiority,  so  sure  we  are  that  our 
ideals  have  grown  to  a  higher  stature,  to  a  nobler 
beauty.  There  are  many  ways  in  which  we  have 
grown,  indeed;  and  yet  the  final  impression  made  by 

449 


450  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

reading  any  history  of  morals  is,  after  all,  not  that 
Christianity  has  had  so  much  influence  upon  the 
world's  conduct,  but  that  it  has  had  so  little.2  No 
historian  can  make  the  Middle  Ages  other  than  re- 
pulsive; a  dark,  cruel,  sick,  savage  period,  a  fruitful 
soil  for  emotional  survivals. 

As  the  term  " survival"  was  introduced  into  the 
world  of  anthropological  research  by  Tylor,  in  his 
"Primitive  Culture/1'  his  definition  thereof  shall 
serve  us  here.  "These  are  processes, "  he  writes, 
"customs,  opinions,  and  so  forth,  which  have  been 
carried  on  by  force  of  habit  into  a  new  state  of 
society  different  from  that  in  which  they  had  their 
original  home,  and  they  thus  remain  as  proofs  and 
examples  of  an  older  condition  of  culture,  out  of  which 
a  newer  has  been  evolved. ' ' s  When  one  carries  this 
definition  a  little  further,  out  of  the  sphere  of  custom 
and  habit,  into  that  of  emotion  and  feeling,  one 
will  be  obliged  to  modify  it  considerably.  Habit 
alone,  for  instance,  is  not  sufficient  to  account  for  sur- 
vival in  the  field  of  emotion,  and  does  not  as  a  matter 
of  fact  so  carry  it  on.  As  Tylor 's  whole  book  shows, 
emotional  survivals  are  almost  always  the  result  of 
special  conditions,  preserving  certain  feelings  or  ideas 
as  it  were  artificially,  and  storing  them  up  in  the 
imaginations  and  hearts  of  a  community,  or  a  nation. 
These  surviving  feelings  or  ideas  after  a  time  drop 
out  of  active  and  conscious  life ;  no  longer  used,  they 
become  passive,  latent  in  the  community;  they  re- 
semble the  seeds  of  certain  plants,  which  lie  unsus- 
pected in  the  earth  until  the  time  has  come  for  them 
to  sprout  once  more.  As  we  shall  see  later,  this  re- 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  II          451 

crudescence  may  be  so  active  and  vehement  that  it 
deserves  the  name  "revival";  by  which  term  Tylor 
defines  the  survival  sprung  to  activity,  under  the  in- 
fluence and  the  pressure  of  special  conditions. 

When  we  come  to  consider  religious  survivals  in 
particular,  the  question  of  the  surrounding  conditions 
has  a  vital  importance ;  and  a  glance  at  the  first  ten 
centuries  of  the  Christian  era  will  go  far  toward  ex- 
plaining the  presence  of  some  characteristic  phe- 
nomena of  survival.  The  conditions  prevalent  dur- 
ing the  Middle  Ages  are  owing  to  the  passing  of  the 
ancient,  to  the  rise  of  the  modern,  world.  Such  con- 
ditions united  to  favor  emotional  outbreaks  by  pre- 
senting the  combination  of  great  unrest  and  great  ex- 
citement, acting  on  the  lowered  vitality  of  a  world 
exhausted  by  famine  and  by  war.  The  vigorous 
paganism  of  the  past  was  dead,  and  the  barbarian 
invasions  swarmed  upon  those  races  who  were  striv- 
ing to  revive  and  to  re-make  life.  Fear  and  Famine 
were  the  nurses  of  our  modern  civilization;  and  the 
tales  they  told  made  so  deep  a  mark  upon  men's 
minds  that  fragments  of  them  linger  here  and  there 
to  this  day.  The  religion  of  the  masses  was  as  ir- 
religious as  it  was  possible  to  be ; 4  as  irreligious  as 
religion  sprung  from  emotional  survival  seems  at  first 
bound  to  be.  It  had  little  connection  with  conduct; 
it  was  founded  upon  terror,  upon  egotism,  upon  hys- 
teria; it  shows  mankind  at  the  cry  of  "Sauve  qui 
peut!"  running  pell-mell  from  the  hobgoblins  itself 
had  created.  Noting  the  monstrous  growth  of  super- 
stition, the  profane  and  absurd  stories  which  cling 
around  the  worship  of  the  Virgin,  Hallam  cannot 


452  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

refrain  from  commenting  on  the  irreligious  nature 
of  this  so-called  religion;  and  wondering  "if  an  en- 
tire absence  of  all  religion  might  not  have  been  less 
harmful,  on  the  whole."5  This  is  much  from  an 
historian  who  fails  to  see  that  these  manifestations 
have  sprung  from  a  different  source  than  the  mani- 
festations which  have  aided  the  world  in  its  ethical 
advance. 

The  one  thing  known  about  the  religious  experience, 
is  that  its  occurrence  is  invariably  due  to  a  combina- 
tion of  lowered  vitality  plus  emotional  excitement. 
Individual  cases  have  shown  this  condition  repeated 
over  and  over  again ;  and  certain  religious  movements, 
near  to  our  own  day,  convince  us  yet  again  of  its 
efficacy.  Lowered  vitality  plus  emotional  excitement 
had  a  share  of  responsibility  for  the  great  dissenting 
movement  of  the  eighteenth  century  in  England;  in 
our  own  land  the  sectarian  agitation,  the  Great  Ke- 
vival,8  the  springing-up  of  all  types  of  extravagant 
belief,  the  Bestorationists,  the  Shakers,  the  Latter-Day 
Saints,  the  Dunkards,  down  to  the  Christian  Scientists, 
will  all,  if  their  origin  be  carefully  examined,  be  found 
to  have  similar  conditions  as  their  inducing  cause. 

In  the  early  Middle  Ages,  such  conditions  were  ful- 
filled, not  merely  for  scattered  individuals,  nor  iso- 
lated groups,  but  for  humanity  at  large.  Primitive 
feeling  held  an  unchecked  sway  over  the  masses; 
while  the  effect  of  Christianity,  with  its  strong  emo- 
tional appeal,  was  to  heighten  and  to  intensify  all 
primitive  feeling;  to  act  as  stimulus  to  the  emotional 
side  of  religion.  For  many  centuries  previously, 
emotional  faith  had  appeared  to  weaken  and  to  ebb. 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  II          453 

Philosophy  had  failed,  by  reason  of  its  intellectual 
demand,  to  formulate  a  creed  for  the  humble. 
Christianity  gave  both  an  impetus  and  a  voice  to  the 
forces  slumbering  then,  as  now,  in  the  very  being  of 
the  race.  It  released  and  directed  a  body  of  senti- 
ments by  whose  aid  alone  man  could  advance  in  his 
evolution.  But  at  the  same  time,  along  with  these 
primitive  emotional  forces  there  were  aroused  and 
set  into  action  other  forces  just  as  primitive,  but  by 
no  means  as  beneficent,  which  are  indissolubly  bound 
up  with  the  life  of  the  emotions.  Many  of  these 
forces  are  present,  but  are  no  longer  constant  in  their 
operation  upon  the  human  mind;  they  may  be  sum- 
moned into  activity  only  by  special  influences  and 
under  special  conditions.  Perhaps  they  may  be  best 
described  by  the  term  "vestigiary." 

Working  together  with  active  forces,  these  vestig- 
iary  forces  have  helped  in  furthering  the  spread 
of  Christianity.  Our  examples  have  shown  how 
they  made  their  appearance  in  the  doctrines  of 
Christian  belief,  and  in  what  ways  they  have  been 
incorporated  with  these  doctrines.  Much  of  this 
incorporation  was  done  later,  when  the  Fathers  made 
their  ingenious  attempt  to  account  for  all  things 
according  to  a  strictly  Christian  interpretation; — 
but  much  also  was  present  at  the  very  beginning, 
for  which  only  vestigiary  remains  can  account.  Be- 
cause we  see  in  the  Golden  Rule,  in  Christ's  ideal 
of  brotherhood,  a  flattering  evidence  of  development 
from  the  abysmal  state  of  cruelty  and  brute  force, — 
because  these  divine  things  are  to  be  found  in  his 
teaching,  we  must  not  forget  the  vestigiary  savage 


454.  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

conceptions  therein,  reward  and  punishment,  hell  and 
heaven,  vision,  and  magical  power  and  exorcism. 
Because  a  new  ethical  need  and  a  new  ideal  caused 
man  to  accept  this  purer  faith,  does  not  mean  that 
he  had  utterly  cast  aside  his  savage  emotional  tradi- 
tions. On  the  contrary,  the  first  effect  of  Christianity 
was  to  re-vitalize  these. 

The  anthropologist  tells  us  that  this  nucleus  of  ves- 
tigiary  emotion — this  terror  and  worship  of  the  un- 
known spirits  which  is  called  "animism" — had  be- 
come, in  those  cloudy  ages  when  it  was  not  vestigiary 
but  active,  the  seat  and  source  of  the  religious  senti- 
ment. Later  formalistic  tendencies,  the  influence  of 
a  priestly  hierarchy,  intent  on  "performing  the 
proper  act  in  the  proper  way,"  somewhat  suppressed 
these  animistic  feelings,  causing  them  to  play  less 
part  than  they  had  played  previously  in  the  na- 
tional life  and  religion  of  men.  History  is  one 
long  struggle  between  these  tendencies,  now  the  one, 
now  the  other,  predominating;  now  the  hierarchy 
crushing  the  people,  now  the  prophet  stimulating 
them  to  protest  afresh.  Under  the  spur  of  Christ's 
personality,  and  his  sensitive  relation  of  all  feeling  to 
conduct  and  ideals,  this  nucleus  of  ancient,  primitive 
forces,  developed  a  sudden  and  overmastering  vitality. 
In  proportion  as  the  Son  of  Man  was  real  to  men,  so 
his  influence  revived  and  strengthened  their  capacity 
for  emotion.  He  taught  them  the  beauty  of  feeling, 
the  value  of  feeling,  the  essential  need  of  feeling ;  and 
thus  was  evolved  a  whole  group  of  emotions,  which 
before  had  been  but  rudimentary.  They  spring  up 
and  flower,  changing  the  entire  aspect  of  the  earth  to 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  II          455 

men;  who  had  not  noticed  how  the  seeds  had  lain 
hid  in  these  barren  places.  When  one  reads  Augus- 
tin  's  ' t  Confessions, ' '  he  may  behold  the  unfolding  and 
the  flowering  of  this  garden  of  the  Soul. 

Founded  upon  and  rooted  in  primal  emotion,  the 
religious  experiences  contained  in  the  documents,  of 
confession,  must  be  finally  dissociated  from  the  pro- 
cesses connected  with  the  formation  of  intellectual 
opinion.  As  their  genesis  is  different,  so  is  their  evo- 
lution. They  are  intimately  related  to,  if  not  actually 
a  part  of,  the  mystical  tendency.  Many  of  these  ex- 
amples might  be  best  described  as  depicting  a  condi- 
tion of  temporary  mysticism  accompanying  and 
following  change  of  belief.  This  body  of  experience, 
presenting  the  various  phases  of  Depression,  Conver- 
sion, and  Reaction,  is  but  the  repeated  individual 
expression  of  forces  which  were  yet  more  active  and 
dominating  in  primitive  man.  Under  the  gradual 
movement  of  modern  life,  many  of  these  forces  have, 
no  doubt,  been  largely  outgrown.  Cold  and  dead  in 
some  persons,  in  others  we  find  them  present,  but 
latent,  and,  as  it  were,  vestigiary.  These  forces  thus 
remain  in  most  modern  individuals  only  as  survivals. 

Although  all  survivals  are  not  religious,  yet  the 
question  of  survival  and  revival  has  an  especial  bear- 
ing on  all  manifestations  of  religion.  Ritual  in  itself 
has  been  observed  to  be  a  great  f ossilizer  of  survivals ; 
the  amber  which  has  preserved  many  early  religious 
ideas.  "La  persistance  du  rite  est  la  raison  des  sur- 
vivances,"  says  Doutte,  speaking  of  the  survival  in 
Mussulman  festival  and  folk-lore.7 


456  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

It  is  to  the  outworn  custom  one  must  look  for  traces 
of  ancient  survivals,  many  of  which  are,  even  in  this 
latter  age,  deeply  embedded  in  the  very  foundations 
of  our  complex  civilization.  The  revival,  however,  is 
by  no  means  to  be  closely  compared  with  a  fossil.  It 
occurs  where  the  survival  has  received  the  impulse 
of  life;  it  is  a  nucleus,  a  centre  of  energy,  whether 
benignant  or  malignant,  wholly  changing  and  dom- 
inating the  subject.  This  revival  most  frequently 
occurs  in  crowds,  where  the  stimulus  of  contagion  is 
added  to  the  other  stimuli,  with  powerful  effect;  but 
it  is  not  infrequently  to  be  found  in  sporadic,  iso- 
lated, and  individual  cases,  cases  which  often  are  the 
furthest  removed  from  the  possibility  of  contagion. 
Tylor  mentions,  though  only  in  passing,  certain  in- 
stances of  this  individual  revival,  and  observes  that 
it  follows  the  same  course  as  does  the  crowd-revival.8 

Before  considering  the  examples  of  revival  in  the 
individual,  let  us  pause  to  survey  the  course  of  those 
crowd-revivals  whose  influence  on  history  has  made 
them  more  familiar  to  our  minds.  So  marked  is  their 
trail  that  even  those  of  us  who  fail  to  comprehend 
their  psychology  are  willing  to  accept  them  as  a  suf- 
ficient excuse  for  many  amazing  aberrations,  for  many 
startling  events.  To  enumerate  and  analyze  them 
would  lead  far  from  the  present  task,  but  their  origin 
must  not  be  forgotten  in  its  direct  bearing  on  our 
enquiry. 

"As  men's  minds  change  in  progressing  culture, 
old  customs  and  opinions  fade  gradually  in  the  new 
and  uncongenial  atmosphere,  or  pass  into  states  more 
congruous  with  the  new  life  around  them.  .  .  . 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  II          457 

Studying  with  a  wide  view  the  course  of  human  opin- 
ion, we  may  now  and  then  trace  on  from  the  very 
turning-point  the  change  from  passive  survival  into 
active  revival.  Some  well-known  belief  or  custom 
has  for  centuries  shown  symptoms  of  decay  ...  it 
hursts  forth  again  with  a  vigor  often  as  marvellous 
as  it  is  unhealthy.  "9  Should  the  reader  desire  con- 
firmation of  this  passage,  let  him  return  to  the  chap- 
ters on  "Data,"  of  this  hook,  and  read  once  more 
the  documents  relating  to  witchcraft.  He  will  appre- 
ciate that  each  intellectual  advance  has  been  followed 
by  an  emotional  reaction  of  equal  sweep,  during  one 
of  which,  fostered  by  certain  special  tendencies  latent 
in  Christianity  itself,  the  savage  survival  of  witch- 
craft leapt  into  vivid  and  malign  activity.  As  an 
epidemic,  witchcraft  had  been  chronic  among  the 
lower  races  and  is  still  chronic  among  them.  To  us, 
as  the  anthropologist  remarks,  "its  main  interest  lies 
in  the  extent  and  accuracy  with  which  the  theory  of 
survival  explains  it. ' ' 10  The  main  idea  of  witchcraft 
is  savage;  all  the  rites  connected  with  it  are  savage,. 
Various  minor  fluctuations  of  this  revival  carry  down 
to  our  own  day  its  degrading  and  evil  influence. 
1fhe  Mormon  outbreak, — the  outbreak  of  demoniacal 
possession  in  Switzerland  in  1861, — the  outbreak  of 
Spiritualism  in  the  eighties,11 — all  will  be  found  to 
exhibit  the  same  typical  savage  characteristics,  symp- 
toms, and  progress. 

Any  relation  of  the  individual  confessant  to  these 
groups,  and  his  classification  among  the  data  of  sav- 
age survival,  are  not  the  work  of  theory,  they  are  the 
work  of  the  confessant  himself.  As  one  reads  of  his 


458  EELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

personal  conflict,  in  volume  after  volume,  this  con- 
clusion is  not  fortuitous,  it  is  inevitable.  Only  the 
clerical  eye  could  have  failed  to  see  where  he  be- 
longed and  to  place  him  there  years  ago.  His  own 
heartrending  description  of  his  feelings,  his  intensity, 
particularity,  and  vividness  of  imaginative  concep- 
tion,— these  lend  us  the  light  wherewith  to  under- 
stand him.  In  every  word  he  utters,  he  paints  for  us 
the  progress  of  his  savage  revival.  In  every  word 
he  utters,  he  makes  plain  to  us  the  nature  of  his  mon- 
strous and  pathetic  delusion.  For,  what  seems  to  him 
Divine,  what  seems  to  him  to  be  the  work  of  God,  or 
the  Voice  of  God,  or  the  God-designed  means  for  his 
arrival  at  ultimate  security  and  salvation,  we  now 
know  to  be  in  its  origins  something  wholly  and  gro- 
tesquely different,  something  linked  not  with  the 
higher,  but  with  the  lower,  issues  of  man's  nature; 
something  connected  not  with  what  we  human  crea- 
tures have  become,  but  with  what  we  once  were,  aeons 
since ;  something  hideously  close  to  that  other  savage 
revival  of  witchcraft,  sprung  from  brute  cruelty  and 
terror. 

Let  us  examine  further  into  the  literature  of  the 
witch-confession,  in  order  both  to  connect  it  with  the 
data  of  religious  confession  and  to  draw  comparisons 
between  these  two  survivals.  By  the  light  of  the  law 
of  association  of  ideas  many  of  the  incidents  in  the 
witch-testimonies  take  on  a  fresh  significance.  Cer- 
tain among  them  illuminate,  in  a  striking  manner, 
much  that  has  seemed  hitherto  incredibly  bizarre  to 
our  civilized  intelligence. 

The  unfortunates  on  trial  for  the  crime  of  witch- 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  II          459 

craft  make  many  references  to  the  so-called  "  Witches' 
Sabbat."  Whether  in  Scotland  or  in  France,  — 
whether  in  the  thirteenth  or  the  seventeenth  century, 
these  references  are  identical,  and  are  equally  sug- 
gestive of  savagery.  The  dress,  indecent  and  fan- 
tastic, of  the  participants,  the  drum-beat  summoning 
the  assembly  to  the  woods  at  night,  the  devil-worship 
and  the  frantic  dance,  the  cannibal  sacrifice,  followed 
by  an  indescribable  orgy, — all  these  things  are  read 
by  the  modern  student  under  his  quiet  lamp,  while  he 
shudders  at  the  perversity  of  the  human  imagination. 
To  his  mind,  such  conceptions  bespeak  a  sort  of  wicked 
lunacy.12  But  let  him  turn  to  the  sober  narrative  of 
the  African  traveller,  and  he  will  find  the  same  fes- 
tival set  down  therein,  in  cold  print,  as  an  everyday 
incident  of  aboriginal  life.  Stripped  of  all  connec- 
tion with  our  Occidental  Devil  (for  no  savage  mind 
had  ever  the  genius  to  create  that  figure ! ) ,  the  ritual 
of  this  feast  is  not  changed  in  a  single  detail.13  Yes- 
terday, to-day,  to-morrow, — the  drums  beat,  the 
Congo  villagers,  smeared  with  paint,  gather  in  the 
forest  for  a  debauch,  to  which  not  one  of  the  most 
hideous  fancies  of  the  Middle  Ages  will  be  found 
lacking.  There  follows  the  natural  question,  How 
came  the  Middle  Ages  to  know  about  such  things  ? 

Ages  since,  such  customs  had  faded  from  the  lives 
of  European  nations.14  There  are  traces  of  them  to 
be  found  in  ancient  Eastern  creeds ;  the  frenzy  of  the 
Maenads  had  a  similar  origin ;  but  they  must  long  have 
been  but  matter  of  vestigiary  memory.  Yet,  since 
the  word  " vestige"  means  a  track  or  footprint,  it 
may  be  accurately  employed  in  showing  the  tracks 


460  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

left  in  men's  imaginations  by  the  vanished  customs 
of  their  tribal  period.  Under  the  spur  of  sharp  ter- 
ror,— and  terror  of  the  Unknown, — that  faded,  but 
not  obliterated  memory  of  the  aboriginal  orgy,  began 
to  revive,  stimulated  into  a  show  of  life  and  color. 
Out  of  the  black  pit  of  the  past  arose  these  ugly  and 
tormenting  images,  crowding  to  perplex  a  poor,  un- 
balanced creature  under  the  menace  of  death.  Per- 
haps the  tale  of  some  traveller  at  the  village  inn  had 
been  enough  to  start  the  train  of  ideas — to  stir  and 
animate  these  latent  associations.  The  folk-lore  of 
little  communities,  the  stories  told  by  father  to  son, 
by  mother  to  daughter,  is  the  amber  which  has  en- 
folded and  preserved  these  survivals;  until  that 
moment,  when,  under  favorable  conditions,  they  were 
to  burst  forth  into  vigorous  and  unhealthy  activity. 

11  There  are  no  pages  of  European  history  more 
filled  with  horror, "  says  Dr.  Lea,  "than  those  which 
record  the  witch-madness  of  three  centuries. " 15 
This  "disease  of  the  imagination "  was  heightened 
and  stimulated  by  persecution;  details  which  had 
been  but  cloudy,  became,  under  cross-examination, 
full  and  horrible ;  the  torture  of  the  accused  produced 
fresh  material  at  each  step,  which  each  further  case 
assimilated  and  amplified.  The  psychology  of  the 
witch-confessant  shows  a  progressive  state  of  hysteri- 
cal fear  and  of  imaginative  nervous  delusion.  The 
details  gained  upon  cross-examination  of  these  cases, 
became  more  and  more  dreadful  as  the  cross-examina- 
tion progressed ; 16  as  the  unfortunate  turned,  step  by 
step,  back  to  his  aboriginal  condition,  these  vestigiary 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  II          461 

memories,  revived  and  stimulated  under  the  pressure 
of  terror,  soon  reduced  the  poor  creature  to  the  level 
of  the  sheer  brute.  Torture  always  succeeded  in 
producing  the  answers  desired  by  the  torturers, 
answers  apparently  confirming  their  belief.  Lead- 
ing questions  led  to  uniform  replies,  and  thus  "a 
tolerably  coherent  formula  was  developed  to  which 
all  witches  were  expected  to  conform."17  At  times, 
the  confessions  were  truthful  accounts  of  illusions 
really  entertained,  and  thus  are  comparable  to 
the  visions  of  the  mystics.18  More  often,  they  were 
the  mere  result  of  the  torture  applied  to  produce 
them.  Dr.  Lea  is  of  the  opinion  that  in  some  cases 
the  imaginations  of  the  Witches'  Sabbat  were  evoked 
as  a  relief  from  the  subject's  sordid  poverty,  or 
to  account  to  himself  for  excesses  of  temperament 
which  had  no  other  outlet.19  However  this  may  be, 
it  is  indisputable  that  many  old  beliefs  and  folk- 
tales were  seized  upon  and  incorporated  into  these 
delusions,  forming  a  repository  of  elder,  half-for- 
gotten superstitions.  The  ancient  pagan  idea  of 
night-riders;  the  Norse  "trolla-thing,"  or  nocturnal 
gathering  of  witches,  to  dance  upon  the  first  of  May, 
becomes,  by  a  slow  and  portentous  growth,  connected 
with  the  idea  of  a  pact  with  Satan,  and  so  grew  to  the 
Witches'  Sabbat  of  the  fourteenth  century.20  "Com- 
mon to  the  superstitions  of  many  races,"  writes  Dr. 
Lea,  "its  origin  cannot  be  definitely  assigned  to  any"; 
and  he  observes  that  both  the  Church  and  the  law 
were  at  a  loss  to  account  for  the  wide  prevalence  of 
the  belief,  and  for  the  marked  similarity  in  its  fea- 


462  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

tures.21  Details  varied  little ;  human  sacrifice  and  can- 
nibalism were  the  main  rites  asserted,  delusions 
eagerly  confessed,  and  persisted  in  to  the  stake.22 

The  account  given  by  Dr.  Lea  of  the  witch-trials 
under  the  Inquisition,  at  the  time  the  epidemic  was 
at  its  height,  furnishes  the  most  complete  and  strik- 
ing confirmation  of  its  connection  with  savage  re- 
vival. The  personal  influences,  the  psychological  in- 
fluences, the  physical  influences,  all  made  for  this  re- 
vival and  its  effect  upon  the  mind  of  the  individual. 
Confession  was  to  be  exacted  by  torture,  mental  and 
physical,  and  every  possible  means  was  used  to  entrap 
the  unfortunate  or  obstinate  subject.  His  situation, 
therefore,  was  entirely  favorable  to  the  florescence  of 
the  revival  in  his  personality.  He  needed  only  the 
spur  of  terror  for  his  passive  survivals  to  spring  into 
active  revival.  He  did  not  need  knowledge  of  aborig- 
inal customs;  the  knowledge  was  in  his  blood;  it  was 
naturally  evoked  by  a  certain  train  of  ideas,  under  a 
certain  nervous  stimulus.  With  real  savages  he  was 
not  in  contact,  unless  it  should  be  with  Irish  tra- 
ditions; while  of  that  aboriginal  feast  which  is 
the  prototype  of  the  Sabbat,  he  had  never  even  heard. 
The  Middle  Ages  could  know  nothing  of  the  Aus- 
tralian bushman,  or  of  the  African  negro.  Books 
were  few;  and  most  of  the  people  affected  by  the  re- 
vival could  not  read.  All  the  beliefs  and  customs  con- 
nected with  witchcraft  and  magic  sprang  from,  and 
have  remained  with,  the  peasant,  part  of  an  inherit- 
ance which  he  has  not  yet  outgrown. 

The  hysterical  on  trial  for  her  life  must  immedi- 
ately have  become  the  unconscious  focus,  for  a 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  II  463 

revival  of  these  conceptions.  She,  her  judges,  and 
her  audience  were  for  the  time  being  swayed  by  a  wave 
of  primordial  terror.  Such  reasoning  powers  as  they 
possessed  were  submerged  by  a  flood  of  racial  feelings 
and  recollections.  The  confessants  themselves  bear 
witness  to  this  state,  in  no  uncertain  language.  Made- 
leine Bavent,  describing  the  incidents  at  the  Witches' 
Sabbat,  repeats  that  she  cannot  be  sure  what  she  be- 
held while  there.  It  is  remembered  as  in  a  cloud.23 
Like  Eichard  of  St.  Victor,  she  does  not  plead  this 
vagueness  as  evidence  in  her  favor ;  she  merely  makes 
note  of  it;  to  us,  it  is  a  proof  that  the  whole  experi- 
ence belonged  to  what  James  calls  so  aptly  the  '  ^-re- 
gion " 24  of  her  consciousness.  Neither  do  the  Mor- 
mon elders  attribute  to  any  psychological  influence  the 
extraordinary  behavior  of  some  of  their  converts  dur- 
ing the  revivals  at  Kirtland,  in  Ohio.  The  young 
men  and  women  would  imitate  the  scalping  and 
whooping  of  the  Indians;  would  try  to  speak  in  the 
various  Indian  dialects;  would  be,  writes  one  of  the 
elders,  "completely  metamorphosed  into  Indians."25 
The  fear  and  horror  of  Red  Men  was  not  so  far,  per- 
haps, from  these  unfortunates,  as  the  fear  and  horror 
of  devils  from  the  witch-conf essant ;  but  at  Kirtland 
it  was,  at  least,  just  as  unnecessary,  just  as  markedly 
the  result  of  pure  revival;  sprung  from  the  "B- 
region"  of  consciousness.  "This  B-region,"  writes 
the  psychologist,  ".  .  .  is  obviously  the  larger  part 
of  each  of  us,  for  it  is  the  abode  of  everything 
that  is  latent,  and  the  reservoir  of  everything  that 
passes  unrecorded  or  unobserved.  It  contains,  for 
example,  such  things  as  all  our  momentarily  inac- 


464  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

tive  memories,  and  it  harbors  the  springs  of  all 
our  obscurely  motived  passions,  impulses,  likes,  dis- 
likes, and  prejudices.  Our  intuitions,  hypotheses, 
fancies,  superstitions,  persuasions,  convictions,  and  in 
general  all  our  non-rational  operations  come  from  it. 
It  is  the  source  of  our  dreams  and  apparently  they 
may  return  to  it.  In  it  arise  whatever  mystical  ex- 
periences we  may  have,  and  ...  it  is  also  the  foun- 
tain-head of  much  that  feeds  our  religion."  26 

Although  the  conclusions  of  William  James  are  not 
those  of  the  present  investigation,  yet  one  must  not  un- 
derestimate the  service  he  has  rendered  by  so  clear  a 
definition  of  this  extra-marginal  portion  of  our  con- 
sciousness. The  data  of  the  emotional  religious  experi- 
ence have  their  origin  in  this  region,  from  which  all 
survivals  take  their  rise.  Holy  saint  and  hysterical 
nun  are  alike  in  this,  that  the  disturbance  which  has 
been  caused  in  the  "B-region"  by  the  rise  and  domina- 
tion of  some  survival,  has,  in  them,  preoccupied  and 
possessed  the  entire  personality,  to  the  total  exclu- 
sion of  all  those  factors  which  make  for  the  normal 
life  of  human  beings.  Under  pressure,  that  which 
existed  in  the  beginning  but  as  a  passive,  latent  sur- 
vival, has  become  an  active  revival,  has  pressed  for- 
ward upon  what  James  calls  "the  full,  sun-lit  con- 
sciousness"; until  it  alters  and  clouds  the  latter  be- 
yond recognition. 

Surely,  it  is  natural  that  human  creatures,  find- 
ing these  strange  ideas  rising  out  of  themselves, 
should  try  to  explain  them,  should  try  to  relate 
them  to  some  unknown  fact.  The  more  healthy- 
minded  tend  to  link  them  with  everything  they  dis- 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  II          465 

like  and  cannot  understand.  Thus,  the  early  Chris- 
tians came  to  be  accused  of  various  practices  having 
their  origin  in  savage  survival ;  thus,  in  the  Olympian 
hand  of  a  Goethe,  the  Walpurgis-nacht  superstition 
became  a  symbol  of  man's  lower  nature.  To  us,  these 
beliefs  furnish  clear  evidence  of  their  common  source, 
and  more  than  that,  their  particular  character  points 
to  that  source  in  primitive  savage  animism. 

The  individual,  as  an  exponent  of  the  phenomena 
of  revival,  has  been  little  studied  up  to  the  present 
time.  Tylor  notes  Swedenborg  as  having  been  in- 
tensely animistic,  both  in  doctrine  and  personality.27 
"Mrs.  Piper,  the  medium/'  writes  Andrew  Lang, 
"exhibits  a  survival,  or  recrudescence  of  savage  phe- 
nomena. ' ' 28  The  data  collected  in  the  foregoing 
chapter  on  heredity,  health,  and  early  piety,  are  gath- 
ered from  many  persons  predestined,  mentally  and 
nervously,  to  be  the  subject  for  such  revival.  Many 
an  one  has  found  himself  suddenly  quite  helpless  in 
the  grip  of  terrors  and  agonies  risen  to  confront  him 
out  of  the  very  depths  of  his  nature.  These  are  hor- 
rors, hydra-headed,  uncontrollable,  perverse,  made  of 
the  naked  stuff  of  the  cave-man.  No  wonder  that 
the  humble  and  ignorant — the  John  Bunyans  and 
John  Crooks,  the  David  Halls  and  Joseph  Smiths,  and 
Joanna  Southcotts  of  this  world — are  smitten  by  them. 
Moreover,  there  is  good  reason  why  such  as  these  are 
especially  prone  to  be  the  subject  of  revival.  "The 
primitive  Aryan,"  Dr.  Frazer  reminds  us,  "in  all 
that  regards  his  mental  fibre  and  texture  is  not  ex- 
tinct. He  is  among  us  to  this  day.  The  great  in- 
tellectual and  moral  forces  which  have  revolutionized 


466  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

the  educated  world,  have  scarcely  affected  the  peasant. 
In  his  inmost  beliefs  he  is  what  his  forefathers 
were."29  With  the  peasant,  the  belief  and  practice 
based  on  the  higher  animism  remain  existent  as  an- 
cestral relics, — as  vestigiary,  passive  survivals. 

The  startling  effect  of  the  whole  series  of  experi- 
ences to  the  individual,  is  thus  in  a  manner  explained. 
The  confessant  reiterates  the  novelty,  the  strangeness 
of  his  feeling,  the  well-nigh  indescribable  character 
of  his  suffering.  It  is  not  matter  of  his  immediate 
knowledge,  it  is  something  from  outside.  It  is  strik- 
ing, bizarre,  fantastically  new,  much  as  to  our  eyes 
those  first,  fossil  shapes  of  the  great  saurians  seemed 
altogether  new,  and  for  the  same  reason.  The  aver- 
age person,  living  his  peaceful,  civilized  life,  and  con- 
scious of  no  hoofed  satyrs  rising  to  torment  him  out 
of  his  savage  past,  will  argue  that  evolution  has  rid 
him  of  all  these  barbarities.  True  it  is  that  many 
of  them  do  appear  to  be  on  the  wane.  During  the 
Middle  Ages,  the  witchcraft  revival  attacked  all  per- 
sons without  discrimination.  Such  superstitions  are 
fewer  to-day.  The  power  of  suggestion  in  controlling 
them  is  man's  most  civilizing  influence.  But  so  long 
as  men  are  men,  so  long  will  they  be  liable,  under 
given  conditions,  to  recurrence  of  these  revivals,  if 
often  under  new  forms.  The  fact  that  at  the  moment 
the  number  of  individuals  undergoing  the  particular 
revival  involved  in  emotional  religious  experience,  is 
fewer  than  in  the  past,  is  no  argument  for  its  even- 
tual disappearance.  Almost  any  one  can  recall  in  his 
acquaintance  some  person  who  has  been  completely,  if 
temporarily,  altered  by  some  new  belief,  some  one  who 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  II          467 

has  made  an  emotional  turn  to  Christian  Science,  or 
some  other  sect,  and  who  has  but  given  a  new  name  to 
this  age-long  experience. 

The  average  person  may  look  in  vain  for  any  tokens 
of  its  existence  within  himself.  But  let  those  given 
conditions  occur, — let  the  process  once  start, — let  the 
force  of  emotion,  like  a  hidden  spring,  release  the 
passive  survival  so  that  it  grows  to  active  revival, — 
then  the  mental  law  of  association  between  ideas  may 
be  counted  upon  to  do  the  rest.  He  who  began  with 
mere  depression,  dissatisfaction,  and  preoccupation 
with  self,  is  like  to  go  on  to  torments,  to  horrors,  to 
abnormalities  of  thought  and  behavior,  to  visions  and 
voices,  to  ecstasies  and  trances;  he  will  be  changed 
beyond  his  own  power  of  recognition.  "My  visage 
altered, "  says  Thomas  Lay  the,  "so  that  my  friends 
were  alarmed."  Myles  Halhead's  wife  remonstrates 
with  him  on  his  changed  appearance  and  behavior. 
Thomas  "Ware  seemed  little  better  than  a  maniac. 
George  Story  appeared  to  himself  actually  more  like 
a  beast  than  a  rational  creature.  The  friends  of  Alex- 
ander Gordon,  and  of  Mary  Fletcher,  were  much  wor- 
ried by  their  looks.  On  every  hand,  the  families  of 
the  confessants  testify  to  the  extraordinary,  and  in 
most  cases  deteriorating,  effect  of  the  experience.  For 
generations  their  remonstrance  has  been  made  to  stand 
as  persecution  by  the  world  or  the  Devil,  and  it  mat- 
tered little  if  it  were  the  plea  of  Salimbene's  father, 
or  the  impatient  protest  of  some  employer  of  Method- 
ist or  Quaker, — all  were  set  aside  in  the  same  category. 

Nervous  contagion  and  epidemic  hysteria  no  doubt 
aided  the  development  of  the  conversion-process  to- 


468  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

ward  its  typical  crisis.  Fantastic  ideas,  before  un- 
dreamt-of, often  take  complete  hold  on  the  subject's 
mind.  In  the  witch-trials  one  may  read  accounts  of 
devil-worship  or  the  Witches'  Sabbat, — accounts  de- 
tailed in  their  brutal  obscenity, — from  the  lips  of  deli- 
cate, cloistered  women  or  of  innocent  girls.  No  won- 
der that  diabolical  possession  was  the  only  rational 
explanation  to  their  audiences  of  such  horrors.  Be- 
lief in  a  Devil  had  at  least  this  advantage,  it  threw 
all  responsibility  for  the  results  of  a  disturbance  into 
the  "B-region"  where  it  seemed  to  belong,  ridding 
poor  humanity  of  the  burden.  It  is  well  for  us 
to  remember  and  repeat, — in  case  we  should  ever  come 
to  grips  with  these  things, — that,  under  normal  condi- 
tions, these  feelings  should  not  be  brought  into  the 
light  at  all,  for  they  belong  to  those  obscurely  regis- 
tered impressions  which  are  a  part  of  our  animal  in- 
heritance. 

An  answer  may  be  here  suggested  to  some  of  the 
questions  which  were  asked  at  the  outset  of  this  en- 
quiry. That  disintegrating  force,  which  we  have  seen 
to  operate  so  disastrously  upon  personality,  is  gener- 
ated by  a  spontaneous  revival,  in  the  individual,  of 
vestigiary,  savage  animism.  Sprung  into  action  as 
the  result  of  certain  given  conditions,  this  revival 
starts  upon  its  regular  progress  that  process  known  as 
emotional  religious  experience,  manifested  in  the  three 
phases  of  Depression,  Conversion,  and  Eeaction.  For 
this  process,  under  whatever  variations,  the  animistic 
revival  is  completely  responsible.  Different  sections 
of  the  present  study  have  been  devoted  to  analyzing 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  II          469 

the  predisposing  conditions  and  immediate  causes  of 
such  revival;  while  others  show  why  the  merely 
pathological  or  medical-materialist  theory  is  unable  to 
explain  it,  and  why  the  mystical-compromise  theory  is 
unable  to  explain  it.  Once  set  in  action,  this  influx 
of  animistic  emotions  and  impulses, — simply  founded 
on  Fear  and  "Worship  of  what  is  unknown — operates 
as  a  disrupting  agency  upon  the  subject's  personality, 
and  causes  an  acute  distress  until  its  course  is  run; 
or  until  peace  returns  through  the  medium  of  direct, 
psychological  suggestion.  Why  suggestion  has  this 
power  at  the  crisis,  science  has  not  yet  made  clear  to 
us ;  the  condition  of  the  subject  appears  to  predispose 
him  to  a  high  degree  of  suggestibility  at  such  a  time. 
There  are  cases  in  which  the  coalescence  altogether 
fails  to  take  place;  when,  instead  of  steady  progress 
toward  a  mystical  or  semi-mystical  culmination,  fol- 
lowed in  due  course  by  a  return  to  normal  conditions, 
the  process  assumes  proportions  properly  termed  path- 
ological, and  the  personality  of  the  subject  remains 
disrupted  (or,  as  we  commonly  say,  unbalanced)  for 
the  rest  of  his  life.  Unquestionably,  there  is  justice 
in  the  observation  that  this  state  is  in  itself  prone  to 
foster  any  latent  nervous  or  mental  disease.  This 
does  not  mean,  however,  that  it  is  in  itself  to  be  classed 
as  disease,  any  more  than  our  vestigiary  physical  re- 
mains are  to  be  classed  as  deformities. 

When  we  come  to  look  upon  this  process  as  vestig- 
iary, it  is  evident  that  it  must  not  be  looked  on 
either  as  an  "ideally-normal"  condition,  or  as  a 
purely  pathological  condition.  It  is  a  process  strictly 
natural,  as  natural,  let  us  say,  as  fear  of  the  dark, 


470  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

as  natural  as  little  else  about  us  is  natural.  Be- 
longing to  that  group  of  primitive  instincts  which  man 
has  tended  but  imperceptibly  to  outgrow,  its  sudden 
development  unsettles  the  balance  which  civilization 
has  had  such  difficulty  in  maintaining.  When  these 
hidden  sluice-gates  open  in  the  depths  of  being,  there 
are  dangers  for  all  our  higher  qualities  in  the  rise  of 
that  dark  and  secret  flood.  The  great  contemplatives 
and  mystics,  whose  lives  have  presented  the  seeming 
paradox  of  activity,  both  mundane  and  supra-mun- 
dane, have  been  able  to  hold  it  in  check,  so  that  their 
creative  and  intellectual  centres  were  not  thereby  sub- 
merged. Need  we  add  that  such  ability  belongs  only 
to  the  rarest  type  of  genius? 

Science  is  more  or  less  ignorant  of  the  special 
causes  which  unite  to  produce  this  outbreak  of  animism 
in  the  individual;  but  it  shows  from  the  data  that  a 
prerequisite  is  the  lowering  of  the  vital  forces.  This 
lowering  results  most  often  from  the  approach  of  pu- 
berty, with  depressing  social  surroundings,  poverty, 
vice,  infirmity,  or  ill-health,  as  contributing  causes. 
When  these  conditions  have  been  fulfilled  to  an  extent 
affecting  society  at  large  (as  in  the  Middle  Ages,  or  in 
the  United  States  just  after  the  War  of  Independ- 
ence), there  results  a  general  outbreak  of  animistic  re- 
vivals of  all  sorts.  Individuals  of  robust  vitality  may 
be  found  among  our  examples,  who  suddenly,  after  se- 
rious illness  or  strain,  find  themselves  confronted  with 
this  experience,  almost  invariably  heralded  by  pre- 
liminary depression,  restlessness,  and  fear  about  self. 
Where  these  individual  cases,  at  this  critical  moment, 
come  into  contact  with  crowd-revivals  and  their  conta- 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  II          471 

gion,  the  process  is  naturally  heightened  and  hastened. 
The  savage  origin  of  the  savage  manifestations  prev- 
alent in  crowd-revivals  has  been  sufficiently  insisted 
upon  in  these  pages ;  to  the  student  of  Mormonism,  of 
the  Evangelical  movement,  of  the  Great  Eevival,  their 
abysmal  source  is  marked  as  plainly  as  that  of  witch- 
craft in  the  past. 

"C'est  le  prop  re  des  etats  de  1'ame,"  writes  Eenan, 
"ou  naissent  1'extase  et  les  apparitions,  d'etre  conta- 
gieux.  L'histoire  de  toutes  les  grandes  crises  reli- 
gieuses  prouve  que  ces  sortes  de  visions  se 
communiquent,  dans  une  assemblee  des  personnes 
remplies  de  memes  croyances. ' ' 30  The  history  given 
by  Jonathan  Edwards,  in  his  " Narrative,"  already 
mentioned  in  these  pages,  becomes  a  notable  con- 
firmation of  the  theory  of  savage  revival.  Start- 
ing in  a  small  New  England  village  in  1735,  the  so- 
called  " Great  Revival"  spread,  "with  fresh  and  ex- 
traordinary incomes  of  the  spirit, ' '  to  the  neighboring 
towns,  causing  widespread  religious  excitement.  The 
initial  suggestion,  according  to  Edwards,  was  due  to 
"an  apprehension  that  the  world  was  near  to  its  end, 
which,"  he  naively  adds,  "was  altogether  false."31 
Here  was  evidently  another  manifestation  of  that 
spontaneous  Fear,  which  has  been  responsible  for 
so  many  an  emotional  outbreak  in  human  history.32 
Direct  nervous  contagion  had  its  share,  for  Edwards 
notes  the  suicide  of  an  unfortunate  during  this  period, 
which  became  the  starting-point  for  an  epidemic  of 
suicide.  Conditions  are  here  depicted  all  the  more 
striking  because  of  the  "misinterpreted  observation" 
through  which  they  have  been  preserved.  That  New 


472  EELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

England  farmer,  urged  by  the  blind  forces  in  his  be- 
ing to  cringe,  terror-stricken,  before  an  angry  Deity, 
seems  to  fall  back  many  centuries  into  savagery. 

The  reader  must  not  infer  that  only  among  the 
simple  and  the  credulous  are  these  forces  to  be  found 
at  work.  Were  this  true,  they  would  have  far  less 
importance.  On  the  contrary  savage  survivals  lie 
close  about  the  lives  of  the  most  fastidious  and  com- 
plex of  men.  Each  one  of  us,  in  fact,  might  exclaim 
with  the  poet: — 

"Within  my  blood  my  ancient  kindred  spoke, 
Grotesque  and  monstrous  voices,  heard  afar 
Down  ocean  caves  when  behemoth  awoke."  33 

And  yet  how  few  of  us  realize  that  these  voices  are 
1  'grotesque  and  monstrous" — how  many  of  us,  with 
the  pathetic  misinterpretation  of  the  past,  have  con- 
nected them 

"with  that  far-off  divine  event, 
To  which  the  whole  creation  moves!" 

If  we  will  but  set  them  in  their  proper  place,  much 
that  seemed  uncomfortably  fantastic  about  them  will 
be  explained;  much  that  seemed  unreasonable  will 
seem  so  no  longer.  The  remains  of  fetichism  in  the 
churches  will  seem  as  natural  to  us  as  the  re- 
mains of  fetichism  in  every  nursery.34  Man  will  no 
longer  hold  God  responsible  for  that  mass  of  fancies, 
lingering  over  from  abysmal  days  in  the  "B-region" 
of  his  fellow-creatures.  He  will  understand  why  re- 
ligious concepts  are  attached  to  all  sorts  of  material 
objects  by  the  imaginations  of  the  devout;  why  spe- 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  II          473 

cial  devotions  to  special  dogmas  have  served  to  arouse 
and  to  feed  all  forms  of  animistic  survival.35  The 
Incarnation  and  the  Passion,  the  Sacred  Heart  and 
the  Holy  Sacrament,  awakened  in  the  imaginations  of 
Peter  Favre,  of  Carlo  da  Sezze,  of  M.  M.  Alacoque, 
and  Baptiste  Varani,  typical  emotions  leaving  no 
doubt  as  to  their  animistic  origin.  A  leaden  medal 
to  Alphonse  de  Ratisbonne,  a  fragment  of  prism  from 
an  old-fashioned  lustre  chandelier  to  Joseph  Smith, 
partook  of  a  sacred  character,  wholly  animistic  both  in 
its  sources  and  manifestations. 

The  theory  of  animistic  revival  fully  accounts  for 
all  the  more  perplexing  features  of  the  religious  ex- 
perience. The  destructive  effect  of  the  process  on  the 
subject's  creative  energies  is  thus  seen  to  be  the 
natural  result  of  its  origin.  The  black  despair,  the 
" rending  and  tearing/'  the  "aridity,"  the  paralysis 
of  the  springs  of  effort, — these  have  appeared  inex- 
plicable and  contradictory,  even  to  those  who  believe 
the  process  to  be  in  the  nature  of  a  new  birth.  The 
apparent  dissociation  of  the  feelings  aroused  by  this 
process  from  all  current  standards  of  morality,  has 
raised  a  doubt  in  the  mind  of  many  eminent  religious 
leaders,  and  one  which  the  involved  contradiction 
alone  forbade  them  to  express.  This  dissociation  will 
be  noticed  both  in  general  and  in  particular.  The 
influence  on  its  votaries  of  a  wave  of  emotional  re- 
ligious revival  is  far  oftener  lowering  than  it  is  up- 
lifting. Nothing  could  be  more  immoral  or  irreligious 
in  its  tone  than  Mormonism,  with  its  prophet 's  drunk- 
enness, its  licensed  sensuality,  its  frenzy  of  supersti- 
tion, unless,  perhaps,  it  be  the  polytheistic  Christianity 


474  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

of  the  Middle  Ages,  of  which  Hallam  expresses  such 
doubts. 

Why  a  person  in  the  act  of  "getting  religion" 
should  immediately  develop  an  abnormal  egotism,36 
melancholy  and  gloom ; 3r  with  marked  indifference  to 
another's  feelings,38  and  insensibility  to  other  claims 
and  wishes ; 39  should  become  an  ungrateful  child,40  an 
unkind  brother,41  a  neglectful  parent,42 — and  all  to 
please  his  God, — this  has  been  one  of  the  paradoxes. 
By  other  paradoxes,  no  less  startling,  has  the  Chris- 
tian dogmatist  endeavored  to  account  for  them ;  while 
the  conflict  between  our  human  and  our  religious 
duties  has  for  centuries  tormented  the  unhappy  race 
of  the  conscientious.  That  this  conflict  is  not  exag- 
gerated, the  confessants  themselves  bear  witness; — it 
has  been  the  sharpest  scourge  in  the  hand  of  so- 
called  piety.  When  poor  little  Jeanne  de  St.  M. 
Deleloe  became  a  novice  at  sixteen,  she  attributes  her 
grief  at  leaving  home  to  the  Devil's  work. 

The  virtues  of  self -absorption  are  dwelt  upon  in  a 
manner  highly  suggestive.  Examples  have  already 
been  quoted.  When  her  husband  died,  Mme.  Guyon 
hastened  to  praise  God  that  he  had  broken  her  bonds. 
The  mother  of  Guibert  de  Nogent  left  her  delicate  boy 
alone  in  the  world  while  she  sought  salvation  in  the 
cloister.  Therese  of  the  Holy  Child  was  the  fifth  sister 
to  take  the  veil,  thereby  leaving  empty  her  old  father's 
house.  "Keligion,"  comments  William  James,  "is  a 
monumental  chapter  in  the  history  of  human  ego- 
tism!" 

Obviously,  these  ideas  of  duty  are  not  our  ideas; 
in  our  eyes,  they  appear  rather  to  suggest  a  doc- 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  II          475 

trine  of  "Sauve  qui  peut!"  Sprung  from  animism, 
this  manifestation  of  selfish  terror  becomes  a  nat- 
ural result,  founded  on  a  certain  logical  basis. 
We  are  shocked  to-day  when  we  hear  of  such  in- 
stances, but  most  of  us  regard  them  as  exceptional. 
What  we  have  utterly  failed  to  recognize  is  that  such 
egotism  is  fundamental,  nay,  even  essential.  Similar 
insensibility  is  manifest  in  all  cases  of  animistic  re- 
vival; it  is  not  fortuitous  or  accidental,  it  is  sympto- 
matic and  characteristic.  It  is  the  one  constant  fac- 
tor, among  the  many  variable  factors,  of  this  experi- 
ence. Its  presence  constitutes  an  unfailing  token  of 
the  animistic  revival.  The  gloom,  the  aridity,  the 
suffering  of  the  subject,  are  the  natural  outcome  of 
the  struggle  between  brute,  selfish  terror  and  any  of 
his  higher  ideals  and  feelings  which  evolution  may 
have  developed.  During  such  a  conflict  the  Ego 
forces  itself  on  the  attention  of  the  subject,  and  ac- 
quires an  exaggerated  importance  in  his  eyes.  Hence 
his  cry,  hence  his  terror,  hence  his  protest  that  he  had 
better  lose  the  whole  world  than  his  own  soul.  Recog- 
nition of  this  condition  resulted  in  the  dogmatic 
teaching  of  egotism.  The  mediaeval  mind  was  given 
to  formula?,  while  the  mere  existence  of  these  facts 
was  warrant  for  the  fathers  to  nail  them  fast  to  some 
text.  The  hardest  task  of  the  last  century  has  been 
to  draw  many  of  these  nails,  which  fasten  the  right 
facts  to  the  wrong  explanations.  Medisevalism  was 
not  content  to  acknowledge  this  fundamental,  animis- 
tic selfishness  as  selfishness,  but  must  adopt  and  preach 
it.  Peter  of  Alcantara  warns  against  "the  indis- 
creet zeal  of  trying  to  do  good  to  others." 43  John  of 


476  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

Avila,  counselling  the  neophyte  to  forget  national 
and  family  duties  for  those  duties  so-called,  of  heaven, 
adds  a  chapter  "On  the  Vanity  of  Good  Works/' 
These  he  finds  full  of  danger,  since  they  tend  to 
interest  one  in  this  world  instead  of  in  the  next ! 4* 
Milman  observes,  in  comment:  "Christianity,  to  be 
herself  again,  must  not  merely  shake  off  indignantly 
the  barbarism,  the  vices,  but  even  the  virtues  of  mo- 
nastic, of  Latin  Christianity. ' ' 45  The  further  com- 
ment made  by  science  will  be  to  the  effect  that  Chris- 
tianity was  most  herself,  in  those  days  when  all  her 
standards  and  most  of  her  ideals  were  the  standards 
and  the  ideals  resulting  from  the  influence  of  ani- 
mistic revival.46 

The  characteristics  of  the  animistic  revival  are  at 
all  times  and  under  all  circumstances  so  definite,  so 
recognizable,  that  it  is  no  wonder  the  Middle  Ages 
should  attach  to  them  a  supernatural  cause,  or  should 
distort  their  effects  into  a  form  of  ethical  code.  Most 
of  these  effects  we  should  not  to-day  dare  to  term 
virtues.  "We  realize  their  brute  nature,  their  origin 
in  a  time  when  religion  and  conduct  were  separate, 
dissociated  ideas.  Many  of  the  qualities  vaunted  in 
the  mediaeval  religious  life,  are  now  known  to  have 
sprung  from  the  day  when  man  trembled  he  knew  not 
why,  and  adored  he  knew  not  what, — and  their  pres- 
ence is  as  plain  as  such  another  survival  as  the  child 's 
fear  of  the  dark,  and  to  be  accounted  for  in  the  same 
way. 

When  such  revival  is  in  progress  there  ensues 
a  temporarily  disintegrating  effect  upon  the  morals 
and  philosophy  of  the  subject.  It  could  hardly  be 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  II          477 

otherwise  when  one  realizes  the  potency  of  the  forces 
generated  and  the  instability  of  the  material  upon 
which  they  operate.  The  excitement  sets  up  currents 
and  counter-currents,  actions  and  reactions.  Civiliza- 
tion does  not,  as  some  of  our  novelists  would  have  it, 
fall  from  the  shoulders  like  a  discarded  garment  at 
the  first  touch  of  any  passion.  Hereditary  self-con- 
trol, hereditary  balance  and  reason,  and  sense  of 
duty,  do  not  resign  their  empire  without  a  struggle 
with  this  antagonist,  risen,  in  Stevenson's  apt  phrase, 
"out  of  the  slime  of  the  pit."  It  is  this  age-long  con- 
flict between  Man  as  he  is  and  Man  as  he  used  to  be, — 
to  describe  which  writers  have  exhausted  their  vocab- 
ulary of  poignant  and  pathetic  words, — that  has 
caused  more  than  half  the  misery  of  the  world. 

The  mystic  himself  has  had,  at  moments,  a  realiza- 
tion of  this  truth.  Barbanson  depicted  his  agony  in 
the  phrase,  "divisio  nature  ac  spiritus."  To  more 
than  one  sufferer  under  the  torture  of  that  peculiarly 
horrible  survival,  the  Unpardonable  Sin,  there  has 
come  the  gleam  of  a  feeling  that,  after  all,  what  he 
suffers  is  an  anomaly  in  the  teaching  of  one  so  gentle 
as  Jesus  of  Nazareth, — that  his  despair  must  have 
grown  up  from  a  deeper  root  than  the  mere  suggestion 
in  a  text.  Suggestion  it  is,  but  far  more  in  the  nature 
of  primordial  suggestion.  The  paragraphs  dealing 
with  the  origin  of  the  Unpardonable  Sin  have  already 
connected  it  with  other  concepts  having  their  source 
in  primitive  Fear.  Its  qualities  of  intensity,  pecul- 
iarity, and  vagueness  of  definition  support  this  rela- 
tion ;  while  it  was  shown  that  the  confusion  among  the 
Fathers  respecting  its  nature  was  as  striking  as  their 


478  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

unanimous  recognition  of  its  prevalence  and  power. 
They  did  not,  of  course,  relate  it  to  the  act  of  name- 
less impiety  lying  at  the  root  of  the  idea  of  primitive 
tabu,  which  few  savage  tribes  are  without.  It  remains 
for  the  modern  student  to  see  in  these  two  conceptions 
— the  breaking  of  the  primitive  tabu,  and  the  Unpar- 
donable Sin — a  strong  family  resemblance.  The  latter 
would  seem  only  readily  explained  if  we  see  it  in  the 
light  of  a  survival  of  the  former.  The  tabu  has  all 
the  equivocal  characteristics  of  danger  and  fatality 
which  hung  about  sacred  things  to  the  primitive  mind. 
Among  the  Greeks  tabu  is  simply  the  Forbidden,  the 
Thing  Feared.47  Breach  of  tabu  meant  defilement, 
until  expiated  with  blood.  It  is  just  as  vague,  and  no 
more  definite,  than  the  Unpardonable  Sin  to  the  sin- 
ner who  thinks  he  has  committed  it,  knowing  not  what 
it  is.  Among  the  Boloki,  to  break  the  tabu  was  to 
bring  a  curse,  or  even  death  to  the  breaker.48  Hebrew 
tradition  makes  no  mention  of  any  specific  unpardon- 
able offence ;  but  in  their  complicated  system  of  tabus, 
purification  was  demanded  even  by  a  trifling  breach. 
All  these  tabus  mingle,  in  a  manner  extremely  sug- 
gestive, the  idea  of  holiness  with  that  of  danger.49 

No  doubt  the  Fear,  inherent  in  the  aboriginal  tabu, 
has  remained  inherent  in  this  later  conception,  out  of 
which  all  the  specific  cause  for  Fear  had  vanished  long 
ago.  In  sacredness,  potency,  vagueness,  and  fatal 
mysteriousness,  the  Unpardonable  Sin  is  to  the  modern 
confessant  what  the  breach  of  tabu  is  to  the  Congo 
savage,  nor  is  it  lacking  in  that  sense  of  infection, 
which  served  to  heighten  in  both  instances  the 
wretchedness  of  the  sinner.  Fear  is  the  main  constit- 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  II          479 

uent  of  all  survivals;  and  where  this  Fear  becomes 
active,  its  malignant  influence  over  some  young  life 
is  preserved  for  us  in  numberless  volumes  of  pious 
autobiography. 

Striking  as  it  seems,  this  particular  instance  is  but 
a  side-issue  in  the  main  psychological  conflict.  That 
such  conflict  is  universal,  that  all  men  pass  within 
danger  of  it,  that  youth  itself  is  inextricably  bound 
up  with  the  forces  which  produce  it, — is  the  fact  suffi- 
cient to  confirm  any  theory  of  its  innate,  primordial 
origin. 

The  reader  may  impatiently  retort  that  this  is  not 
what  he  means  by  religion.  Many  persons  strongly 
object  to  being  linked  with  the  Bunyans  or  the  Teresas 
of  this  world.  They  would  insist  that  the  religious 
experience,  due  to  an  individual  revival  of  savage 
animism,  is  not  the  only  sense  in  which  we  use  that 
term.  True;  and  yet  little  has  been  accomplished 
by  the  present  investigation  unless  it  has  made  plain 
that  the  current  terms  used  in  treating  this  subject 
are  far  too  loose  for  our  current  knowledge  of  it  to 
admit.  If  the  emotional  religious  experience  be  truly 
the  result  of  a  revival  of  savage  animism ;  then  one  of 
the  questions  asked  at  the  outset  of  this  study  has 
been  in  a  measure  determined.  The  mystical  states 
which  form  the  essence  of  this  experience  are  not 
merely  intensified  states  of  intellectual  opinion  and 
belief.  Their  genesis  is  other,  their  evolution  is  other. 
That  high  seriousness  respecting  life  and  its  duties, 
which  to  some — to  many — of  us  to-day  constitutes 
vital  religion,  is  not  the  product  of  animistic  survivals. 


480  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

May  it  not  even  be  said  to  oppose  their  growth? 
Such  feelings,  such  standards,  surely  interfere  with, 
and  impede  emotional  revivals,  because  they  belong 
to  the  fabric  of  civilization  which  has  covered  and 
changed  the  primitive  man  in  his  nakedness.  They 
spring  from  what  we  have  made  of  ourselves;  not 
from  what  we  were  made.  The  sources  of  this  high 
seriousness  are  intellectual,  and  so  far  as  it  is  possi- 
ble to  tell,  they  appear  to  be  directly  antagonistic  to 
the  development  of  emotional  experience.  The  whole 
body  of  intellectual  and  abstract  conceptions  has  been 
introduced  much  later  into  the  scheme  of  man's  evo- 
lution.50 If  classification  be  made  easier  thereby,  our 
intellectualized  beliefs  may  be  placed  in  this  late 
period;  while  the  emotional  experience  goes  back  to 
that  original.  These  are  the  twin  streams  which  have 
fed  and  fertilized  the  soil  of  man's  religious  life;  and 
once  we  see  these  currents  as  two,  we  readily  agree  with 
the  psychologist  "that  the  word  religion  cannot  stand 
for  any  single  principle  or  essence, ' ' 51  but  that  it 
must  be  used  as  a  collective  term.  Moreover,  the  di- 
rect testimony  of  the  data  at  hand  confirms  this  view. 
Manifestations  so  conflicting,  so  contradictory,  must 
needs  have  more  than  one  source.  That  man  who  is 
habitually  guided  by  his  intellect  will  suffer  partially, 
or  transiently,  or  not  at  all  from  any  animistic  re- 
vival. For  this  reason  he  is  apt  to  deny  its  existence, 
or  to  scorn  it  as  pathological  if  he  admit  it  at  all. 
That  man,  on  the  other  hand,  who  is  habitually  guided 
by  feeling  and  imagination,  will  undergo,  while  in  the 
grasp  of  this  revival,  passions  so  furious,  terrors  so 
intense,  joys  so  exalted  and  transcending,  that  he  will 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  II          481 

look  upon  the  doubter  of  these  experiences  as  either 
a  dullard  or  a  madman. 

Should  it  occur  to  these  subjects  that  both  may  be 
religious,  then  they  frequently  rush  to  the  conclusion 
that  both  are  affected  by  the  same  force,  differing 
only  in  its  degree  of  intensity.  Each  would  resent 
the  imputation  that  he  is  any  less  religious  than  the 
other;  each  would  exclude  the  other,  if  he  could, 
from  the  realm  of  religion;  failing  this,  their  only 
refuge  has  been  a  destructive  latitudinarianism.  Dif- 
ferentiation of  terms  is  the  first  and  the  most  nec- 
essary step  toward  clearing  up  these  obscurities. 
Method  and  classification  should  be  the  second,  though 
even  more  important.  Method  will  reach  the  infer- 
ence that  the  so-called  religious  instinct  cannot  be  held 
as  singly  responsible  for  all  the  various  and  complex 
manifestations  hitherto  grouped  under  this  one  head. 
If  it  be  the  cause  of  one  type  of  phenomena,  then  it 
is  precluded  from  being  responsible  for  the  other, — 
and  vice  versa.  If  by  religion  there  be  meant  a  group 
of  experiences  and  resultant  phenomena  having  their 
origin  in  animistic  revival, — such  as  form  the  material 
of  the  present  study, — then  the  experience  running 
counter  to  these  may  not  be  called  religion. 

The  time  has  come  to  bring  the  reader  face  to  face 
with  the  questions  asked  in  the  Introduction,  and  to 
decide  whether  this  examination  has  in  any  way  helped 
him  to  resolve  them.  The  survey  at  least  should  have 
enabled  him  to  discriminate  more  successfully  between 
the  various  forms  of  data.  "An  autobiography, ' '  says 
Emerson,  "should  be  a  book  of  answers  from  one  in- 


482  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

dividual  to  the  many  questions  of  the  time ' ' ; 52  and 
when  a  fellow-creature,  in  the  pages  of  a  confession, 
tells  of  the  forces  which  create,  and  of  the  forces  which 
destroy,  the  reader  knows  which  of  them  are  physical, 
and  what  they  mean,  which  are  mystical,  and  what 
they  mean,  which  are  literary  and  social,  and  what 
they  also  mean.  Instincts,  thoughts,  and  emotions  are 
laid  bare  to  him ;  he  is  no  longer  deceived  by  individ- 
ual variation,  nor  by  misinterpreted  observation.  His 
recognition  and  comprehension  of  the  different  factors 
will  be  rapid  and  complete. 

And  with  understanding  will  come  a  greater  toler- 
ance,— one  might  even  say  a  greater  reverence.  No 
longer  will  he  place  everything  which  is  not  his  ideal 
of  health  sweepingly  in  the  realm  of  disease.  Neither 
will  he  longer  conceive  that  his  God  is  a  God  despising 
the  divine  medium  of  natural  law.  When  he  comes  to 
feel  and  to  perceive  this  law,  moving  to  its  fulfil- 
ment in  his  own  obscurest  processes  exactly  as  it  moves 
throughout  the  universe,  shaping  worlds  out  of 
nebulae, — then  the  frantic  running  to-and-fro  of  little 
men,  shouting  their  jargon  of  judgment  and  revela- 
tion, upholding  or  condemning  one  another,  will  no 
longer  even  make  him  angry.  "We  will  not  attack 
you  as  Voltaire  did,"  he  will  exclaim  in  the  famous 
words  of  Morley;  "we  will  not  exterminate  you,  we 
shall  explain  you.  History  will  place  your  dogma  in 
its  class,  above  or  below  a  hundred  competing  dogmas, 
exactly  as  the  naturalist  classifies  his  species.  From 
being  a  conviction  it  will  sink  to  a  curiosity ;  from  be- 
ing the  guide  to  millions  of  human  lives  it  will  dwindle 
down  to  a  chapter  in  a  book. ' ' 53 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  II  483 

If  he  desire  to  formulate  a  reply  to  the  searching 
queries  of  science,  the  data  of  the  confessant  have 
furnished  him  with  the  means  of  meeting  them  on 
new  ground,  and  with  fresh  suggestions.  He  now 
sees  and  can  describe  the  manifestations  in  the  in- 
dividual of  the  force  which  is  known  as  religion.  He 
recognizes  it  by  the  uniformity  and  universality  of 
its  symptoms; — he  concludes  that  this  very  uniform- 
ity and  universality  are  our  strongest  witnesses 
to  its  reality;  the  evidence  can  almost  be  made  to 
prove  itself.  A  steady  recurrence  of  the  same  indica- 
tions, under  different  conditions  of  time  and  place  and 
nationality,  is  proof  sufficient  of  their  foundation  in 
an  actual  process.54 

Just  as  we  recognize  through  its  typical  effects  the 
presence  of  the  force  called  electricity,  so  we  recognize 
by  its  typical  effects  the  presence  of  the  emotional  re- 
ligious experience.  But  when  we  seek  its  further 
relations,  in  order  to  complete  our  induction,  we  are 
checked  by  the  confused  voices  of  philosophy  dis- 
puting on  the  question  of  definition.  Turning  to 
science,  therefore,  it  has  seemed  as  though  the  work  of 
the  anthropologist  came  nearest  to  providing  us  with 
vital  comparisons  and  suggestions.  Our  conclusion 
that  the  " experiences"  of  the  type  herein  classified 
are  due  to  animistic  revival,  acting  counter  to  the  later- 
developed  intellectual  and  social  elements  of  Person- 
ality, with  a  result  temporarily  or  permanently  dis- 
integrating, is  a  conclusion  very  far  from  the  flattering 
theories  of  the  mystical  compromiser,  at  present  so 
much  in  vogue.  This  conclusion  contradicts  such 
theories  through  the  confessant 's  own  testimony,  by 


484  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

showing  that  the  peace,  the  joy,  the  reunion,  are  but 
the  evanescent  effects  of  psychological  suggestion. 
The  evidence  proves  that  a  conversion-crisis  rarely  es- 
tablishes Personality  on  any  higher  level  than  before, 
and  that  it  is  never  without  a  reaction,  during  which 
the  subject  has  to  suffer  further  crises  of  doubt  and 
'"gloom.  The  records  show  that  whenever  the  conver- 
sion appears  to  be  the  means  of  opening  new  channels 
to  the  energy  of  the  subject,  it  does  so  through  his  im- 
pulse toward  work  of  some  kind,  or  by  bringing  him 
into  contact  with  some  sectarian  activity.  If  his  reli- 
gious crisis  leads  him  to  take  up  teaching  or  preach- 
ing or  organizing,  then  his  level  as  an  individual  may 
truly  be  raised ;  but  such  elevation  cannot  be  called  the 
effect  of  the  conversion;  it  is  rather  the  effect  of  the 
subsequent  work.  If  the  subject's  emotional  experi- 
ence does  not  lead  him  in  the  direction  of  new  work 
(and  there  are  many  cases  where  it  does  not),  then  the 
last  state  of  this  man  is  infinitely  worse  than  his 
first.55  The  reader  will  have  become  convinced  that 
in  most  natures  a  religious  conversion  no  more  changes 
the  original  elements  of  good  and  evil  in  the  subject 
than  a  wave  changes  the  constituency  of  the  water 
through  which  it  moves.  We  have  enveloped  this 
crisis  in  a  cloud  of  our  own  anthropomorphic  beliefs : 
we  have  attached  to  it  the  idea  of  God,  conquering  the 
demon,  entering  into  and  calming  the  troubled  soul. 
Man  has  affixed  a  religious  significance  to  this  age- 
long, evolutionary  conflict,  because  only  a  religious 
significance  seemed  fitted  to  express  its  extraordinary 
poignancy. 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  II          485 

Thus  are  we  brought — if  unwillingly — to  that  ulti- 
mate question; — one  which  will  always  be  asked,  and 
to  which  no  answer,  while  men  are  what  they  are, 
can  ever  be  accepted  as  final.  Do  we  find  in  these 
experiences  any  proof  of  the  religious  instinct?  For 
more  than  three  thousand  years,  men  have  trembled 
and  adored  after  this  fashion;  what  should  it  prove 
to  us  to-day? 

We  have  seen  what  it  seemed  to  prove  in  the  past. 
God's  word  was  not,  we  remember,  in  the  thunder, 
nor  yet  in  the  lightning;  and  we  are  now  asking  one 
another  if  it  is  in  "  the  still,  small  voice. ' '  Amid  the 
clamor  of  contending  theories,  science  knows  only  that 
she  must  walk  austerely,  that  she  must  not  assume  a 
priori  supernatural  causes  for  natural,  physical  effects. 
If  it  is  to  animistic  revival  we  are  to  look  for  proof  of 
a  religious  instinct,  then  we  must  further  differentiate 
the  ideas  dealing  with  non-anthropomorphic,  ethical 
conceptions,  which  many  of  us  include  under  the  same 
head.  These  terms,  after  all,  are  but  the  symbols  of 
the  forces  by  whose  aid  man  continues  to  evolve.  We 
name  and  re-name  them;  in  essence  they  remain  the 
same.  "Tous  les  symboles  qui  servent  a  dormer  une 
forme  au  sentiment  religieux  sont  incomplets,  et  leur 
sort  est  d'etre  rejetes  les  uns  apres  les  autres."56 

As  we  reject  these  symbols  the  one  after  the  other, 
instinctively  we  choose  symbols  of  a  higher  character 
to  succeed  them;  and  to  this  instinct  we  may  safely 
confide  the  evolution  of  our  religious  ideals.  When 
men  came  to  understand  that  visions  and  voices,  ter- 
rors and  trances,  belong  to  their  " ancient  kindred," 


486  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS      , 

their  lower,  not  their  higher  selves,  then  men  were 
plagued  by  them  no  longer ;  those  symbols  passed,  and 
were  rejected. 

For  the  work  of  the  courageous  rationalist — who  to- 
day is  the  only  idealist — is  but  begun.  Three  cen- 
turies ago,  wise  and  good  judges,  under  the  grip  of  a 
savage  survival,  put  their  innocent  fellow-men  to 
a  cruel  death,  on  no  evidence  save  that  of  raving  hys- 
teria.57 Less  than  a  century  since,  and  the  incredi- 
bly grotesque  and  brutish  conception  of  a  personal 
Devil,  was  allowed  to  torment  the  sleep  of  little  chil- 
dren and  to  insult  the  eternal  face  of  things.  It 
would  be  hard  to  find  a  single  intelligent  family  sub- 
mitting to  that  horror  to-day.  Two  hundred  years 
ago,  a  callous,  organized  selfishness  was  preached  as 
the  highest  life  a  person  could  live.  To-day,  no  creed, 
no  church,  puts  the  career  of  passive  egotism  before 
that  of  active  social  service.  It  has  slipped  into  its 
proper  sphere,  and  the  churches  now  give  emphasis 
and  precedence  to  the  religious  orders  working  for 
others.  A  hundred  years  hence,  and  we  may  confi- 
dently hope  that  the  relation  borne  by  the  imaginings 
of  the  mystic  to  our  life  and  ideals,  shall  be  set  into 
the  same  category  as  the  demon-possession  of  the  nuns 
of  Louviers  or  Loudun.  The  symbols  pass;  they  are 
rejected  the  one  after  the  other. 

Whatever  the  religious  symbols  of  the  future,  at 
least  they  will  not  be  those  of  the  past;  they  will  not 
be  founded  on  savage  survivals.  The  religion  they 
form  will  not  permit  its  votaries  to  write,  as  did  the 
honest  Scot  of  a  saintly  philosopher,  that  "this  atheist 
should  have  been  rightly  named  Maledictus,  and  not 


THE  RELIGIOUS  INSTINCT:  II          487 

Benedictus  Spinoza  !"58  Religious  doctrine  will  not 
be  founded  on  horror,  but  on  beauty ;  not  on  fear,  but 
on  security;  not  on  wild  revelations  to  a  few,  but  on 
hope  and  constructive  ethics  to  the  many.  It  will 
teach  its  followers,  through  science,  how  better  to  fight 
the  battle  with  their  brute  selves.  It  will  bid  them 
shut  their  ears  and  ignore — as  Luther  ignored  the 
Devil — all  those  mutterings  of  what  they  once  were. 
We,  who  have  hung,  like  Dante  over  the  Inferno,  un- 
til our  ears  shrink  from  the  "high  shrieks"  and  the 
"voices  shrill  and  stifled' ';  we  can  but  hope  for,  and 
believe  in,  the  swift  passing  of  our  outworn  symbols. 
No  one  who  reads  these  records  of  suffering  but  feels 
his  soul  purged  by  pity  and  terror, — pity  to  see  his 
fellow-man  clinging  to  these  rejected  symbols,  terror 
to  see  him  struggling  with  the  slime  of  the  pit,  and 
knowing  not  with  what  he  strives ! 


THE  END 


NOTES 


NOTES 

CHAPTER  I 

1.  Advancement  of  Learning,  p.  78. 

2.  G.  B.  Cutten,  The  Psychological  Phenomena  of  Chris- 
tianity, p.  5. 

3.  UEsprit  des  Lois,  preface. 

4.  E.  Caird,  The  Evolution  of  Religion,  p.  26. 

5.  Ferrero,   Characters   and  Events   in  Roman  History, 
p.  33. 

6.  William  James,  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience,  p.  3. 

7.  Such  as   the  Records  of  Friends,   or   Methodists,   or 
Port-Royalists. 

8.  Port-Royal,  vol.  vi,  p.  245. 

9.  Ernest  Havet,  Le  Christianisme  et  ses  Origines,  vol. 
ii,  p.  6. 

10.  Cf.  the  intellectual  freedom  of  Manu  or  of  Confucius 
(in  Sacred  Books  of  the  East)   with  such  Christian 
writings  as  the  Imitation  of  Christ. 

11.  A.  R.  Burr,  The  Autobiography,  Boston,  1909. 

12.  E.  Caird,  Evolution  of  Religion,  p.  2. 

13.  Ibid.,  p.  89. 

14.  Jevons,  Introduction  to  the  Study  of  Religion,  p.  3. 

15.  R.  W.  Emerson,  Society  and  Solitude,  "Books,"  p.  195. 

16.  Matthew  Arnold,  Empedocles  on  JEtna. 

17.  Philosophical  Basis  of  Religion,  p.  153. 

18.  E.  Delacroix,  Etude  sur  I'histoire  du  Mysticisme,  p.  5. 

19.  "Pour  les  ames  profondes  et  reveuses,  pour  les  intelli- 
gences dedicates  et  attentives." 

20.  Cf.  William  James,  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience. 

CHAPTER  II 

1.  Across  the  Plains  (Pulvis  et  Umbra),  p.  294. 

2.  Budge,  Book  of  the  Dead,  p.  190. 

3.  Budge,  Book  of  the  Dead,  Papyrus  of  Nu. 

491 


492  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

4.  Ibid.,  p.  35. 

5.  Morris  Jastrow,  Religion  of  Babylonia  and  Assyria, 
pp.  313-320;   "confession  during  a  special  penitential 
season,"  p.  326.    Sayce,  Religion  of  Babylonia,  p.  418. 

6.  Westermarck,  Origin  of  Moral  Ideas,  vol.  i,  p.  84. 

7.  Sacred  Books  of  the  East,  Buhler,  Laws  of  Manu,  xi, 
p.  229.    Cf.  Frazer,  Taboo,  pp.  214-215. 

8.  Satapatha-Brahmana,  Vedas,  p.  397. 

9.  Sacred  Books  of  the  East,  Ibid,  i,  p.  261;  cf.  also  the 
Kullavagga,  xx,  p.  122. 

10.  Allan  Menzies,  History  of  Religion,  p.  376. 

11.  Epistle  of  James,  v,  16. 

12.  Allan  Menzies,  op.  cit.,  p.  323. 

13.  Plutarch,  Apothegms,  "On  Lysander"  (Bonn). 

14.  "The    Confessional    is    a   Tribunal."     Schieler-Heuser, 
Theory  and  Practice  of  the  Confessional,  1906. 

15.  Jewish  Encyclopedia,  art.,  "Confession." 

16.  P.  C.  Conybeare,  Myth,  Magic  and  Morals,  p.  321. 

17.  Proverbs,  xxvm,  13;  Acts,  xix,  18;  John,  i,  19. 

18.  H.  C.  Lea,  History  of  Auricular  Confession,  vol.  i,  p.  8. 

19.  Ibid.,  p.  14. 

20.  Ibid.,  p.  19. 

21.  F.  C.  Conybeare,  Myth,  Morals  and  Magic,  p.  321;  H. 
C.  Lea,  op.  cit.,  p.  174. 

22.  See  Pere  Duchesne,  Histoire  Ancienne  de  VEglise. 

23.  H.  C.  Lea,  op.  cit.,  vol.  i,  p.  81,  et  seq. 

24.  Ibid.,  p.  171. 

25.  Ibid.,  pp.  173-75. 

26.  Ibid.,  p.  11   (note). 

27.  Windelband,  History  of  Philosophy,  p.  277. 

28.  S.  fteinach,  Orpheus,  p.  290. 

29.  H.  C.  Lea,  op.  cit.,  vol.  i,  p.  13. 

30.  Ibid.,  p.  362. 

31.  History  of  the  Holy  Mar-Ephrem,  378  A.D.,  in  Syriac. 
See  Schaff's  Ante-Nicene  Fathers,  vol.  xm,  Ephraim 
Syrus. 

32.  H.  C.  Lea,  op.  cit.,  vol.  i,  p.  362. 

33.  Ibid.,  and  also  p.  171. 

34.  Ibid.,  p.  207. 


NOTES  493 

35.  Ibid.,  pp.  219-21;  and  see  Epistle  of  James,  v,  16. 

36.  Testament  of  Ignatius  Loyola,  p.  42  (Burns  and  Gates). 

37.  See  Bibliography  of  Cases. 

38.  Gorres,  Mystique  Divine,  vol.  n,  pp.  176,  178. 

39.  George  Eliot,  Romola,  vol.  I,  p.  142. 

40.  H.  C.  Lea,  op.  tit.,  vol.  I,  p.  347;  "amara,  festina,  In- 
tegra, et  frequens." 

41.  See  Cardan,  De  Vita  propria  liber. 

42.  Schaff's  Ante-Nicene  Fathers    (trans,   by  Rev.   J.   G. 
Pilkington,  M.A.) ;  Prolegomena. 

43.  Confessions,  book  i,  chaps,  vr-x. 

44.  Ibid.,  book  n,  chaps,  n-x;  chaps,  x-xvn. 

45.  Ibid.,  book  in,  chap.  i. 

46.  Shelley's  Letters.     (Ingpen  Collection.) 

47.  Confessions  (Pusey's  translation),  book  x,  chaps,  xxxi- 

XXXVII. 

48.  See  Cardan,  Bibliography  of  Cases. 

49.  See  Wilde,  Bibliography  of  Cases. 

50.  As  books  xi  and  xn. 

51.  Confessions  (Pusey),  book  v,  p.  79. 

52.  Oscar  Wilde,  De  Profundis,  p.  110. 

53.  Augustin's  Confessions,  book,  x,  chap.  m. 

54.  C.  A.  Sainte-Beuve,  Port-Royal. 

55.  Ibid.,  p.  412. 

56.  Lettere  Familiari,  iv,  1. 

57.  Petrarch  (Robinson  and  Rolfe),  pp.  313  ft. 

58.  Petrarch,  op.  cit.,  pp.  316-17. 

59.  E.  B.  Browning,  Sonnets  from  the  Portuguese. 

60.  Petrarch,  op.  cit.,  p.  402. 

61.  H.  C.  Lea,  History  of  Auricular  Confession,  vol.  i. 

62.  It  may  profitably  be  noted,  in  this  connection,  that 
Luther's    objection    to   confession   was   based    on    its 
tendency   to    found    religion    on    Fear.    Against    this 
bondage   he   wrote   his   "Christian   Liberty."    Person- 
ally the  practice  aroused  his  contempt.    "There  was 
such  a  running  to  confession — they  were  never  satis- 
fled,"  he  notes  in  his  Table-Talk  (Hazlitt),  p.  161. 

63.  Macbeth. 

64.  W.  Hirsch,  Genius  and  Degeneration,  p.  44. 


494.  EELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

65.  See  H.  C.  Lea,  op.  cit. 

66.  See  Abelard,  Cardan,  in  Bibliography  of  Cases. 

67.  See  A.  R.  Burr,  The  Autobiography,  chap.  n. 

68.  See  The  Gadfly,  by  Mrs.  Voynich;  or  The  Silence  of 
Dean  Maitland,  by  Maxwell  Grey. 

69.  Confessions  of  an  Opium-Eater,  p.  114. 

70.  William  James,  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience,  pp. 
462-64. 

71.  William  James,  Principles  of  Psychology,  pp.  267-69; 
cf.   F.   Max  Muller,   Science   of   Thought,   pp.    29-84; 
551. 

72.  See  Bibliography  of  Cases. 

73.  F.  Max  Miiller,  op.  cit.,  pp.  56-57;  85-86. 

74.  Cf.    £uch    self-studies    as    Solomon    Maimon's    Auto- 
biography;  De  Quincey's  Confessions;  Rousseau's;  and 
many  others. 

75.  Hawthorne,  The  Marble  Faun,  p.  144. 

76.  Ibid.,  p.  141 

77.  Cf.  A.  R.  Burr,  The  Autobiography,  chap.  n. 

78.  By  Marie  Bashkirtsev,  preface  to  her  Memoires. 

79.  Society  and  Solitude,  p.  7. 

80.  Essay  on  John  Bunyan. 

81.  See  Bibliography  of  Cases. 

82.  See  Bibliography  of  Cases. 

83.  See  Bibliography  of  Cases. 

84.  Shelley's  Letters,  Ingpen  Collection,  vol.  i,  p.  77. 

85.  Morley's  Life  of  Rousseau. 

86.  S.  Mechtildis,  Liber  Specialis  Gratiw,  in,  51. 

87.  Born,  1462;  died,  1525;  see  Symonds's  Italian  Renais- 
sance, vol.  v,  p.  461;   see  also  Pietro  Pomponazzi,  by 
A.  H.  Douglas. 

88.  London,  1910. 

89.  Encyclopedia  Britannica,  art.,  "Apologetics." 

90.  Cf.  Th.  Gomperz,  Greek  Thinkers,  vol.  n,  p.  102. 

91.  See  also  A.  R.  Burr,  The  Autobiography,  pp.  331-34. 

92.  Corpus  Apologetarum  Christianorum,  secundi  sceculi. 

93.  The  first  noteworthy  apologist  is  named   Quadratus, 
who  lived  and  wrote  under  the  reign  of  Hadrian.    His 
work  is  lost,  while  that  of  his  contemporary  Aristides 


NOTES  495 

has  been  found  and  is  edited  by  J.  Rendal  Harris. 
The  attempt  of  both  was  to  interest  the  emperor  in 
Christianity.  Later  apologies,  many  of  which  remain 
to  us,  are  those  of  Pamphilus,  Justin  Martyr,  Rufinus, 
Jerome,  Athenagoras  of  Athens,  Theophilus  of  Anti- 
och,  Melito  of  Sardis,  Apollinaris  of  Hierapolis, 
Minucius  Felix,  Lactantius,  and  Tertullian.  To  these 
should  be  added  the  Contra  Oentes  of  Athanasius,  and 
the  writings  of  Arnobius,  Eusebius  of  Csesarea,  and 
Cyril  of  Alexandria.  Windelband,  History  of  Phi- 
losophy, p.  353;  E.  Renan,  L'Eglise  Chretienne,  p.  40; 
Encyclopedia  Britannica,  art.,  "Apologetics";  also  cf. 
Milman's  History  of  Latin  Christianity. 

94.  Schaff's  Nicene  Fathers;  Works  of  Jerome,  Apologies 
i,  ii ;  Works  of  Rufinus,  vol.  vi. 

95.  Jerome  Works,  Letter  to  Eustochium. 

96.  Schaff,  op.  cit.,  vol.  vi. 

97.  Ibid.,  St.  John  Chrysostom. 

98.  Schaff's    Nicene    and    Ante-Nicene    Fathers,    op.    cit. 
Works  of  Justin  Martyr;  Shepherd  of  Hermas,  etc. 

99.  Confessions  (Pusey),  books  iv,  v,  x,  etc. 

100.  lamblichus,  De  Mysteriis;  translated  by  Thomas  Tay- 
lor. 

101.  Works  of  Philo  (Bonn),  vol.  n,  pp.  50,  and  388. 

102.  It  must  not  be  forgotten,  in  reference  to  the  above 
statement,  that  the  meaning  attached  to  the  so-called 
Daemon  of  Socrates  has  not  been  exactly  determined 
by    scholars.    While    certain    among    them    hold    his 
remarks  to  refer  to  a  tutelary  genius,  as  Philo  does, 
others  believe  Socrates  to  have  been  merely  ironical; 
while   others   still   hold   the    idea  to   have   been   the 
legendary   contribution   of   his   admirers.     (Th.    Gom- 
perz,  Greek   Thinkers,  vol.  n;    cf.   Grote,  History  of 
Greece,  etc.,   vol.  vi,  pp.  99   et  seq.    Jowett's  Plato, 
Apology  30,  40,  et  seq.) 

103.  Schaff,  op.  cit.,  Life  of  Ephraim  Syrus. 

104.  St.  Patrick,  A.D.,  469. 

105.  Migne,  Pat.  Lat.,  t.  51;  A.D.  463. 

106.  Ibid.,  t.  59;  A.D.  461. 


496  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

107.  Ibid.,  t.  101. 

108.  Ibid.,  t.  121;  A.D.  869. 

109.  Ibid.,  t.  121. 

110.  Ibid.,  t.   144,   liber  v,  ep.   2    (A.D.   1000-1072);    trans- 
lated by  H.  O.  Taylor,  in  The  Mediceval  Mind,  vol.  i, 
pp.  265-66. 

111.  Life  of  St.  Anselm,  by  Rule. 

112.  Chronique  de  1047,  in  Guizot,  Memoires  pour  servir. 

113.  See  Marcus  Dod's  Forerunners  of  Dante,  for  narra- 
tives of  descent  into  hell. 

114.  Historia  Calamitatum. 

115.  Vie  de,  par  lui-meme  (1053-1124). 

116.  Migne,  Pat.  Lat.,  t.  188. 

117.  Ibid.,  t.  175;  cf.  also  Joachim  da  Flore. 

118.  H.  O.  Taylor,  op.  cit.,  vol.  n,  pp.  488-89. 

119.  Known   as   St.   Bonaventura.    H.   O.   Taylor,  op.   cit.t 
vol.  n,  pp.  413-14. 

120.  Windelband,  History  of  Philosophy,  p.  227. 

121.  Berti,  Giordano  Bruno,  Sua  Vita  e  Sua  Dottrina. 

122.  Apologia  di  Lorenzino.     (Raccolta  di  A.  d'Ancona.) 

123.  Apology  for  the  Life  of  Colley  Gibber  (1757). 

124.  Apologia  pro  Vita  Sua. 

125.  A.  R.  Burr,  The  Autobiography,  pp.  332  ff. 

126.  Lodge,    Works   of   Alexander   Hamilton,    vol.   vi,   pp. 
456  ff. 

127.  Pere  Duchesne,  Histoire  Ancienne  de  L'Eglise,  vol.  i, 
p.  213. 

128.  Cf.  Barclay's  Apology,  in  the  case  of  the  Society  of 
Friends. 

129.  A.  R.  Burr,  The  Autobiography,  pp.  332  ff. 

CHAPTER  III 

1.  J.  S.  Mill,  Inaugural  Address,  Works,  vol.  iv,  p.  356. 

2.  F.  Max  Miiller,  Sacred  Books  of  the  East,  Laws  of 
Manu,  1,  11. 

3.  Charmides   (Jowett). 

4.  Phwdrus  (Jowett). 

5.  See  also  Plato's  introduction  to  the  Dialogues. 


NOTES  '497 

6.  Alciliades  (Jowett). 

7.  E.  Havet,  Le  Christianisme  et  ses  Origines,  vol.  i,  p. 
211. 

8.  Hierocles,    commentary    on    the    Carmina    Aurea    of 
Pythagoras.    See    Jeremy    Taylor,    Holy   Living    and 
Dying,  vol.  H,  p.  56. 

9.  Marius  the  Epicurean,  vol.  n,  p.  192. 

10.  Windelband,  History  of  Ancient  Philosophy,  p.  115. 

11.  Fustel  de  Coulanges,  La  Cite  Antique,  p.  430. 

12.  Windelband,  History  of  Philosophy,  p.  92. 

13.  Encycl.  Brit.,  art.,  "Sophists";  Gomperz,  Greek  Think- 
ers, vol.  i,  pp.  45  ff. 

14.  Gomperz,  op.  cit.,  p.  318. 

15.  Primitive  Culture,  pp.  497  if. 

16.  Grote's  defence  will  not  have  been  forgotten,  but  mod- 
ern scholars  seem  to  have  reacted  from  it.    History 
of  Greece,  vol.  vi,  chap.  LXVH,  and  p.  99.    See  also 
Encycl.  Brit.,  art.,  "Sophists";  Gomperz,  Greek  Think- 
ers, pp.  453  /f.;  Windelband,  History  of  Philosophy,  p. 
90. 

17.  A.  R.  Burr,  The  Autobiography,  Boston,  1909. 

18.  Auguste  Comte,  Philosophic  Positive,  p.  33  (trans,  by 
Martineau). 

19.  Ilia. 

20.  Cf.  J.  G.  Fichte,  Science  of  Knowledge;  F.  W.  Schel- 
ling,  Transcendental  Idealism;  I.  Kant,  Dreams  of  a 
Ghost-Seer,  etc. 

21.  Scaramelli,  S.  J.,  Directorium  Asceticum,  vol.  i,  pp. 
334  ff.:  cf.  also  H.  C.  Lea,  History  of  Auricular  Con- 
fession, vol.  i,  pp.  196-97. 

22.  Benjamin  minor,  cap.  LXXV  (trans,  by  Edmund  Gard« 
ner,  in  Dante  and  the  Mystics,  pp.  166-67). 

23.  Jeremy  Taylor,  Holy  Living  and  Dying,  vol.  11,  pp. 
53  ff. 

24.  Schaff,  Nicene  Fathers,  Life  of  Ephraim. 

25.  H.  C.  Lea,  History  of  'Auricular  Confession,  p.  185; 
also  Scaramelli,  Directorium  Asceticum. 

26.  Hid.,  p.  185. 

27.  Schaff,  Nicene  Fathers;  St.  Jerome's  Letters,  etc. 


498  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

28.  E.  B.  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  i,  pp.  497  ff. 

29.  C.  A.   Sainte-Beuve,  Port-Royal,  vol.  n,  p.  396;    also, 
Pascal,  by  St.  Gyres. 

30.  D.  G.  Brinton,  The  Religious  Sentiment,  p.  81. 

31.  Windelband,  History  of  Philosophy,  p.  192. 

32.  L.    A.    Seneca,    Works   and   Life,   by   Justus   Lipsius 
(trans,  by  Lodge). 

33.  M.  A.  Antoninus,  Meditations  (trans,  by  Long),  book  i, 
17;  book  iv,  23. 

34.  Epictetus,  Discourses  (trans,  by  Long),  p.  81. 

35.  Life  of  Plotinus;  Works  (trans,  by  Thomas  Taylor), 
and  Viti  Plotini. 

36.  Ibid.,  introduction  to  Life  of  Plotinus,  by  Porphyry. 

37.  lamblichus,  De  Mysteriis  (translated  by  Thomas  Tay- 
lor). 

38.  Windelband,  History  of  Philosophy,  pp.  276-79. 

39.  Otto  Weininger,  Sex  and  Character,  p.  127. 

40.  Schopenhauer,  The  World  as  Will. 

41.  See  also  Morris  Jastrow,  The  Liver  as  the  Seat  of  the 
Soul. 

42.  E.  Caird,  The  Evolution  of  Religion,  pp.  77  and  207. 

43.  See  Thomas  a  Kempis,  Imitation  of  Christ;  and  Mil- 
man's  comment  in  History  of  Latin  Christianity,  vol. 
vni,  p.  301. 

44.  William   James,   Principles   of  Psychology,    first   two 
chapters.     (For  an  explanation  suited  to  laymen,  see 
Thomson,  Brains  and  Personality,  p.  36.) 

45.  Ibid.,  cf.  also  Encycl.  Brit.,  "Broca"  and  "Aphasia." 

46.  Ibid. 

47.  H.  Bergson,  Creative  Evolution,  preface. 

48.  A.  R.  Burr,  The  Autobiography,  pp.  220-22. 

49.  Jean-Paul  Richter,  Memoirs. 

50.  Villa,  Contemporary  Psychology,  p.  130. 

51.  Windelband,  History  of  Philosophy,  pp.  304-07. 

52.  See  Edmund  Gardner,  Dante  and  the  Mystics,  pp.  173- 
74;   translation  of  De  Contemplatione,  in  Richard  of 
St.  Victor's  Benjamin  major,  i,  5. 

53.  Cf.  Immanuel  Kant,  Dreams  of  a  Ghost-Seer. 

54.  Villa,  Contemporary  Psychology,  p.  132. 


NOTES  499 

55.  Cited  by  P.  Bourget  in  the  Preface  to  La  Barricade. 

56.  Villa,  Contemporary  Psychology,  p.  165;  also,  William 
James,  Principles  of  Psychology,  p.  185. 

57.  Morton  Prince,  in  a  Symposium  on  the  Subconscious, 
pp.  92  and  95. 

58.  Cf.  J.  G.  Fichte  (trans,  by  Rand). 

59.  William    James,    Principles    of   Psychology,    pp.    292, 
297. 

60.  Villa,  Contemporary  Psychology,  p.  266. 

61.  E.  Caird,  Evolution  of  Religion,  pp.  305-08. 

62.  A.  R.  Burr,  The  Autobiography,  pp.  81,  419,  Appendix; 
(cf.  idea  defined  and  expressed  by  Herbert  Spencer). 

63.  G.  J.  Romanes,  Diary,  in  2  vols. 

64.  R.  Descartes,  Discours  de  la  Methode. 

65.  A.  d'Ancona,  Raccolta  di  Autobiografie,  Prefazione. 

66.  Mention  should  be  made  of  the  psychological  journal 
of  Maine  de  Biran,  who,  influenced  by  the  ideas  of 
Condillac,  endeavored,  though  unsuccessfully,  to  note 
his  own  mental  processes.    The  attempt  had  its  effect 
on  later  English  minds  and  tenets. 

67.  Descartes;  born  in  1596,  in  Touraine. 

68.  Al-Ghazzali;  born  in  1058;  died  in  1111  A.D. 

69.  Dominico   Berti,    Giordano   Bruno;    Sua   Vita,   e   Sua 
Dottrina. 

70.  Ibid.,  Constituto:  "lo  sono  pronto  a  dar  conto  di  me." 

71.  L.  Barbier  de  Meynard,  Al-Gazali,  Le  Preservatif  de 
VErreur. 

72.  Ibid.,  op.  cit. 

73.  English  translation  by  Claude  Field,  in  the  convenient 
little  volume  of  the  Wisdom  of  the  East  series,  pp.  10- 
14. 

74.  Ibid.,  op.  cit.,  p.  18. 

75.  R.  Descartes,  Discours  de  la  Methode;  Works,  vol.  123. 

76.  Discours,  vol.  i,  p.  125. 

77.  Ibid.,  vol.  i,  p.  130. 

78.  Claude  Field,  Al-Ghazzali,  p.  57. 

79.  Descartes,  Discours,  p.  132. 

80.  Ibid.,  pp.  139-40. 

81.  Cf.  A.  H.  Douglas,  Pietro  Pomponazzi. 


500  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

82.  Windelband,  History  of  Philosophy,  pp.  344  if. 

83.  Born,  1462;  died,  1524. 

84.  A.  H.  Douglas,  Pietro  Pomponazzi,  pp.  286  ff. 

85.  A.  H.  Douglas,  op.  cit.,  p.  281. 

86.  Ibid.,  pp.  74-75. 

87.  Cf.  also  A.  R.  Burr,  The  Autobiography,  pp.  360-65. 

88.  R.  Descartes,  Discours,  Works,  vol.  i,  pp.  158-59. 

89.  Ibid.,  p.  475. 

90.  Windelband,  History  of  Philosophy,  pp.  437,  447  /f. 

91.  J.  J.  Rousseau,  Confessions,  p.  1. 

92.  See  Caird,  Philosophy  of  Kant. 

93.  Cf.  Dreams  of  a  Ghost-Seer. 

94.  Cf.  Buchner,  Kant's  Educational  Theory,  pp.  230-34. 

95.  Windelband,  History  of  Philosophy,  p.  630. 

96.  J.  G.  Fichte,  Science  of  Knowledge  (Rand's  translation, 
p.  490;  also  chap,  n,  p.  10). 

97.  Ibid.,  p.  502. 

98.  J.  G.  Fichte,  Destination  of  Man,  p.  10. 

99.  Ibid.,  p.  14  (condensed). 

100.  F.  W.  Schelling,  Transcendental  Idealism. 

101.  Arthur  Schopenhauer,  Die  Welt  als  Wille  und  Vors- 
tellung. 

102.  F.  Nietzsche,  Ecce  Homo. 

103.  Such  as  Wilhelm  Krug,  d.  1842;   Soren  Kierkegaard: 
(also  Life  of  Krug,  by  G.  Brandes),  1893. 

104.  Burckhardt,  History  of  the  Italian  Renaissance,  vol. 
H,  p.  36. 

105.  Dante's  Eleven  Letters   (Latham),  Letter  xi. 

106.  Trans,  by  D.  G.  Rossetti. 

107.  Petrarch  (Robinson  and  Rolfe),  p.  17. 

108.  Ibid.,  trans,  on  pp.  59-60  ff. 

109.  Four  groups   are   published   under   the   titles   respec- 
tively  of  Lettere  Familiari,   Senili,   Varie   and   Sine 
Titulo. 

110.  Let.  Fam.  xm,  7. 

111.  Petrarch's  Secret  (trans,  by  W.  H.  Draper). 

112.  Ibid.,  p.  192. 

113.  Ibid.,  p.  14. 

114.  Ibid.,  p.  18. 


NOTES  501 

115.  Ibid.,  pp.  35-36. 

116.  Ibid.,  pp.  84-85. 

117.  Vita  di  Benvenuto  Cellini,  1571. 

118.  Vita  di  Girolamo  Cardano,  1576. 

119.  William  Boulting,  Eneas  Sylvius,  p.  91. 

120.  IMd.,  pp.  149-50. 

121.  C.  A.  Sainte-Beuve,  Port-Royal. 

122.  Windelband,  History  of  Philosophy,  p.  362. 

123.  Sir  Thomas  Browne.    See  Bibliography  of  Cases. 

124.  See  Bibliography  of  Cases,  J.  J.  Rousseau. 

125.  Confessions,  vol.  i.    "Au  moins  je  suis  autre." 

126.  John  Morley,  Rousseau,  vol.  n,  p.  303. 

127.  Jerome  Cardan,  died  in  1576.     (See  A.  R.  Burr,  The 
Autobiography,  chap,  vn.) 

128.  See  A.  R.  Burr,  The  Autobiography,  pp.  29-30. 

129.  Obermann,  edited  by  George  Sand,  1804. 

130.  Ibid.,  p.  24. 

131.  A.  de  Musset,  La  Confession  d'un  Enfant  de  Siecle. 

132.  Life,  by  Moore,  Journals  and  Memoranda. 

133.  Byron,  by  John  Morley,  Miscellanies,  vol.  I. 

134.  Life,  by  Thomas  Moore,  Works,  vol.  iv,  p.  128. 

135.  Ibid.,  pp.  270,  328. 

136.  Ibid.,  p.  211. 

137.  Letters' of  P.  B.  Shelley  (Ingpen  Collection). 

138.  E.  Caird,  The  Evolution  of  Religion,  p.  352. 

139.  The  Browning  Letters,  vol.  I,  p.  43. 

140.  Journals,  vol.  i,  p.  360. 

141.  Ibid.,  p.  79. 

142.  Ibid.,  pp.  139-41. 

143.  Ibid.,  p.  143. 

144.  Ibid.,  pp.  361-68. 

145.  Translated  by  Mary  A.  Ward. 

146.  It  appeared  first  in  1882. 

147.  De  Vita  propria  liber. 

148.  Wenceslas,  in  La  Cousine  Bette. 

149.  William  James,  Principles  of  Psychology,  p.  185. 

150.  The  Gurneys  of  Earlham,  by  A.  J.  C.  Hare,  2  vols. 

151.  De  Profundis,  p.  63. 

152.  Ibid.,  p.  11. 


502  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

153.  Hid.,  p.  38. 

154.  La  Cousine  Bette. 

155.  De  Profundis,  p.  28. 

CHAPTER  IV 

1.  William  Morris,  The  Earthly  Paradise. 

2.  See  Augustin,  Wesley,  Calvin. 

3.  See  Bunyan,  John  Nelson,  E.  Swedenborg. 

4.  See  Gertrude  More,  Rolle  of  Hampole,  Paul  Lb'wengard. 

5.  See  Methodist  cases;  and  H.  Alline,  J.  Linsley. 

6.  Cf.  J.  Trevor,  Martin  Luther,  and  others. 

7.  Jesus. 

8.  Buddha. 

9.  Fox. 

10.  Swedenborg. 

11.  Jesus. 

12.  Buddha. 

13.  Paul. 

14.  The  Epistles  of  Paul;  Martin  Luther's  Table-Talk  and 
Letters. 

15.  Wesley's  Journal. 

16.  See  A.  R.  Burr,  The  Autobiography,  pp.  171-83. 

17.  By  Gustave  LeBon,  in  La  Foule. 

18.  C.  A.  Sainte-Beuve,  Port-Royal,  pp.  416-18. 

19.  See  Rousseau,  M.  Bashkirtsev,  O.  Wilde. 

20.  Anatole  France,  Jeanne  a' Arc,  Appendix. 

21.  Jackson's  Lives  of  Early  Methodist  Preachers,  Preface. 

22.  Born  in  1620. 

23.  See  Bibliography  of  Cases,  John  Bunyan. 

24.  See  Bibliography  of  Cases:  George  Shadford,  M.  Joyce, 
Thomas  Olivers,  John  Pritchard,  John  Murlin,  George 
Whitefield. 

25.  See  on  this  point  Amelia  M.  Gummere,  The  Quaker. 

26.  See  Bibliography  of  Cases,  John  Gratton. 

27.  See  Bibliography  of  Cases,  Joseph  Hoag. 

28.  This  is  often  denied:  the  reader  is  referred  to  the 
cases  themselves. 

29.  See  Bibliography  of  Cases,  George  Fox. 


NOTES  503 

30.  See  Bibliography  of  Cases:  Robert  Wilkinson,  Lorenzo 
Dow,  Daniel  Young,  Thomas  Ware. 

31.  Sampson  Staniforth. 

32.  Thomas  Taylor. 

33.  Mary  Fletcher. 

34.  Thomas  Payne. 

35.  John  Haime. 

36.  Freeborn  Garretson,  Richard  Rodda. 

37.  See  Bibliography  of  Cases. 

38.  See  John  Wesley's  Journal. 

39.  See  Jackson's  Lives. 

40.  See  Jackson's  Lives. 

41.  Journal. 

42.  See  Bibliography  of  Cases. 

43.  Works,  vol.  ni. 

44.  Riley,  The  Founder  of  Mormonism,  pp.  39-40. 

45.  Ibid.,  p.  45. 

46.  Ibid.,  p.  46. 

47.  See   B.   Brown,   P.   Pratt,   Brigham  Young,   and   his 
brother  Lorenzo. 

48.  Riley,  The  Founder  of  Mormonism,  p.  177. 

49.  Book  of  Mormon,  pp.  588-90;  Riley,  op.  cit.,  p.  166. 

50.  Memoirs,  p.  133. 

51.  See  The  Gurneys  of  Earlham,  vol.  i,  p.  333. 

52.  Confessions,  book  ix. 

53.  Hydriotaphia,  p.  5. 

54.  Henri-Fr6d6ric  Amiel,  Journal. 

55.  Confessions:  "I  conceived  that  I  should  be  too  unhappy 
were  I  deprived  of  the  embracements  of  a  woman." 
(See  also  Eneas  Sylvius,  Letters.) 

56.  Table-Talk  (Hazlitt),  p.  152. 

57.  Confessions  of  an  Opium-Eater,  Preface. 

58.  See    Bibliography    of    Cases,    narrative    of    George 
Muller. 

59.  A.  Pope:     Preface  to  his  Collected  Works. 

60.  Thomas    De    Quincey,    Confessions    of    an    Opium- 
Eater. 

61.  For  analysis  see  A.  R.  Burr,  The  Autobiography. 

62.  Ibid. 


504.  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

63.  See  Bibliography  of  Cases:  Andre"  de  Lorde,  Preface. 

64.  See  Confession  of  a  Neurasthenic. 

65.  In  Nicholson's  Phil.  Journal,  vol.   15    (Hibbert,  Phi- 
losophy of  Apparitions). 

66.  Ibid.,  Hibbert,  Philosophy  of  Apparitions,  p.  95. 

67.  A  collection  of  modern  relations  of  matters-of-fact  con- 
cerning witches,  edited  by  Justice  Matthew  Hale. 

68.  De  Vita  propria  liber. 

69.  John  Beaumont  (1732),  A  Treatise  of  Spirits,  p.  221. 

70.  Cf.  the  experiences  of  J.  G.  Fleay,  sent  by  him  to 
Herbert  Spencer,  and  quoted  in  Principles  of  Sociology, 
1,  2,  Appendix. 

71.  See  A.  R.  Burr,  The  Autobiography,  p.  7. 

72.  Ibid.    See  Babbage. 

73.  Ibid.    J.  A.  Symonds,  etc. 

74.  Grasset,  Le  Demi-fou,  p.  257. 

75.  See  A.  R.  Burr,  The  Autobiography,  p.  39. 

76.  In  Hibbert's  Philosophy  of  Apparitions. 

77.  Preface  to  Lettres  a  une  Inconnue. 

78.  By  E.  Caird,  supra. 


CHAPTER  V 

1.  H.  Delacroix,  Etude  sur  I'histoire  du  Mysticisme,  p.  x. 

2.  See  Edmund  Gosse,  Father  and  Son;  H.  Spencer,  etc. 

3.  The  Three  Tabernacles. 

4.  Migne,  Pat.  Lot.,  t.  170,  "Opusculum  de  conversione 
sua." 

5.  Acta;  Vita;  Scivias  sen  Visiones  (all  in  Migne);  also 
Pfcre  Chamonal,  Vie  de  Ste.  Hildegarde. 

6.  Histoire  de  France,  vol.  vi,  Introduction. 

7.  H.  Vaughan,  Hours  with  the  Mystics. 

8.  For   this   and   following  names   see   Bibliography   of 
Cases. 

9.  Curtis,  Some  Roads  to  Rome  in  America. 

10.  Dr.  Leuba  gives  a  number  of  drunkards'  conversions; 
and  James  quotes  that  of  S.  H.  Hadley  (Varieties  of 
Religious  Experience,  p.  201). 


NOTES  505 

11.  See  A.  R.  Burr,  The  Autobiography,  pp.  71,  72. 

12.  Ibid.,  p.  49. 

13.  See  History  and  Practice  of  Thugs,  London,  1851. 

14.  See  H.  B.  Irving,  French  Criminals  in  the  Nineteenth 
Century,  pp.  4-5. 

15.  Ibid.,  p.  207. 

16.  Bibliography  of  Cases,  Public  Ledger,  Philadelphia. 

17.  Newgate  Calendar. 

18.  Memoire.    See  Bibliography  of  Cases. 

19.  Les  Criminels  peints  par  eux-m€mes.    Hesse,  1911. 

20.  H.  C.  Lea,  Chapters  from  Religious  History  of  Spain, 
p.  381. 

21.  Ibid.,  p.  344. 

22.  Gesta    Pontificium   Leodeinsum    (1616),    and    Gorres, 
Myst.  Divine  et  Diaboliquef  vol.  v,  pp.  444-50. 

23.  Myst.  Divine  et  Diabolique,  vol.  v,  p.  374. 

24.  Cf.  trial  of  Major  Weir  and  his  sister,  in  which  both 
confessed  to  crimes  that  they  could  not  possibly  have 
committed.    See    George    Sinclar,    Satan's    Invisible 
World  Discovered,  1685.    Both  Weirs  were  evidently 
insane,  but  were  put  cruelly  to  death. 

25.  Gorres,  op.  cit.,  pp.  136-55. 

26.  Boisroger,  La  Ptete  Affligee,  Rome,  1652;  also  Gorres, 
op.  cit.,  vol.  V,  pp.  226-42. 

27.  Gorres,  op.  cit.,  p.  256. 

28.  Michelet,  Histoire  de  France,  vol.  n,  pp.  306-30;   see 
also  La  Cadriere,  by  the  same  author. 

29.  "L'homme  de  Dieu"  in  Lettre  a  PSre  Attichy,  1635. 

30.  Drs.  Ldgue  and  La  Tourette,  La  Possession  de  la  Mere 
Jeanne. 

31.  By  even  John  Wesley;  see  Journal,  vol.  i. 

32.  Table-Talk   (Hazlitt),  pp.  246-47. 

33.  Ibid. 

34.  Ibid.,  pp.  104,  263. 

35.  Narrative  of  Surprising  Conversions,  Works,  vol.  m, 
pp.  233-40. 

36.  See  infra,  "The  Religious  Instinct,"  chaps,  ix  and  x. 

37.  P.   Cartwright,   Autobiography,   pp.   48-50;    see   Bibli- 
ography of  Cases. 


506  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

38.  G.  B.  Cutten,  The  Psychological  Phenomena  of  Chris- 
tianity, pp.  38-39. 


CHAPTER  VI 

1.  A.  R.  Burr,  The  Autobiography,  pp.  250-51. 

2.  Also  of  Th.  Jouffroy  as  a  case  of  "counter-conversion." 

3.  See  Bibliography  of  Cases:     T.  Haliburton,  J.  Newton, 
Frederick   Smith,   T.   Walsh,   R.   Williams,   Carre1    de 
MontgSron,  J.  Lathrop,  B.  Bray,  J.  McAuley. 

4.  Watson,  The  Philosophical  Basis  of  Religion,  p.  157. 

5.  Ibid. 

6.  G.  LeBon,  La  Foule. 

7.  Translated  by  G.  C.  Coulton,  in  A  Medieval  Garner. 

8.  C.  Pratt,  Psychology  of  Religious  Belief,  p.  223. 

9.  Francis  Newman. 

10.  Angela  da  Foligno. 

11.  Mme.  Guyon. 

12.  Sainte-Beuve,  Port-Royal,  p.  84,  et  seq. 

13.  To  these  cases  add  Father  Gratry,  quoted  by  James 
in  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience. 

14.  Cf.  also  Lacenaire. 

15.  See    Bibliography    of    Cases:     James    Naylor,    My  lea 
Halhead,  Joanna  Southcott. 

16.  Natural  Causes  and  Supernatural  Seemings,  p.  234. 

17.  Cf.  pp.  395  ff. 

18.  Jewish  Encyclopedia,  art.,  "Sin." 

19.  Catholic  Encyclopaedia,  art.,  "Holy  Ghost." 

20.  Martin  Luther's  views  were  the  same  as  Augustin's 
(Table-Talk,  Hazlitt,  pp.  Ill  ff.). 

21.  Matt,  xn,  22-32;  Mark  m,  22-30;  Luke  xn,  10. 


CHAPTER  VH 

1.  Evelyn  Underbill,  Mysticism,  p.  213. 

2.  St.  Cyres,  Pascal,  p.  193. 

3.  Ibid.,  p.  225. 

4.  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience,  chaps,  ix,  x. 


NOTES  507 

5.  G.  B.  Cutten,  Psychological  Phenomena  of  Christianity, 
p.  252. 

6.  Ante,  "Introspection." 

7.  W.  H.  Thomson,  Brain  and  Personality,  pp.  37-38. 

8.  Boris  Sidis,  Suggestion,  chap.  19. 

9.  Cf.    William    James,    Principles    of   Psychology;    see 
chape,  i,  ii. 

10.  Pratt,  Psychology  of  Religious  Belief,  pp.  16,  17,  18. 

11.  James,  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience,  pp.  231-33. 

12.  Boris  Sidis,  Psychology  of  Suggestion,  p.  15. 

13.  Ibid.,  p.  45. 

14.  Ibid.,  p.  53. 

15.  P.  Gallon,  Memories  of  My  Life,  pp.  276-77. 

16.  Cf.  G.  Stanley  Hall,  Adolescence. 

17.  Pierre  Janet,  The  Mental  State  of  Hystericals,  p.  153. 

18.  Ibid.,  p.  202. 

19.  See  Bibliography  of  Cases:     Ste.-Chantal,  Angela  da 
Foligno,  etc. 

20.  Janet,  The  Mental  State  of  Hystericals,  p.  276. 

21.  Ibid.,  p.  527. 

22.  Ibid.,  p.  128. 

23.  Evelyn  Underbill,  Mysticism. 

24.  E.  Brydges,  Autobiography,  vol.  i,  p.  390. 

25.  Augustin. 

26.  Joseph  Hoag. 

27.  Freeborn  Garretson. 

28.  Jane  Hoskins. 

29.  Oliver  Sansom. 

30.  Jerry  McAuley  and  John  Furz. 

31.  John  Crook. 

32.  Mary  Fletcher. 

33.  St.  Paul. 

34.  Colonel  James  Gardiner. 

35.  Patrick. 

36.  Elizabeth  Ashbridge  and  Stephen  Grellet. 

37.  Osanna  Andreasi. 

38.  J.  Hudson-Taylor. 

39.  C.  G.  Finney,  Gertrude  of  Eisleben,  Baptiste  Varani, 
S.  Staniforth,  Thomas  Taylor,  Jonathan  Edwards,  etc. 


508  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

40.  Loyola,  A.  de  Ratisbonne. 

41.  Salimbene,  Osanna  Andreasi. 

42.  Pascal,  H.  Alline,  A.  Braithwaite. 

43.  Raoul  Glaber,  Othloh. 

44.  B.  Sidis,  Psychology  of  Suggestion,  p.  43. 

45.  A.  Comte,  Philosophic  Positive,  Introduction,  p.  37. 

46.  See  Bibliography  of  Cases  for  this  and  all  following 
names. 

47.  Peter  Cartwright's  experience  is   similar  to   that   of 
S.  II.  Bradley   (quoted  by  James,  in  Varieties  of  Re- 
ligious Experience,  p.  261),  who,  aged  fourteen,  had  a 
vision  of  the  Saviour.    Nine  years  later,  after  a  re- 
vival-meeting, he  has  a  violent  attack  of  palpitations 
of  the  heart,  during  which  he  feels  "a  fresh  influx  of 
Divine  love." 

48.  Migne,  t.  146  (trans,  by  Rowland). 

49.  Letter  to  Eustochium  (Schaff;  op.  cit.). 

50.  A  non-autobiographical  record  in  Hibbert,  Philosophy 
of  Apparitions. 

51.  The  authenticity  of  this  Testamentum  is  in  dispute. 

52.  Cf.  Dante,  Paradiso,  xxxin,  140:  — 

"Se  non  che  la  mia  mente  fu  percossa 

da  un  fulgore,   in   che  sua  voglia  venne." 

53.  Cf.  the  vision  of  a  Raphael  Madonna  in  full  colors 
which  appeared  on  his  awakening  to  J.  B.  Fleay,  and 
cf.  also  a  "bright  vision"  of  Christ,  which  Luther  in- 
terpreted as  an  illusion  of  the  Devil. 

54.  F.  von  Hiigel,  Mystical  Element  of  Religion,  vol.  i,  p. 
105. 

55.  Acts,  rx,  xxn,  xxvi. 

56.  E.  Renan,  Les  ApCtres,  p.  181. 

57.  Ibid.,  Introduction,  pp.  vi,  vii. 

58.  Acts  xxn,  xxvi. 

59.  Hebrews;  Ephesians;  Timothy;  Titus. 

60.  E.  Renan,  Les  Apdtres,  pp.  170-71. 

61.  2  Cor.  x,  10;  xi,  30;  and  iv,  13. 

62.  2  Cor.  xn,  1-7. 

63.  See  Bibliography  of  Cases. 


NOTES  509 

64.  1  Cor.  m,  2;  iv,  14;  xni;  2  Cor.  vn,  13,  16;  x,  9. 

65.  Cf.  Augustin,  Mtiller,  Loyola,  etc. 

66.  Acts  xxvi,  14. 

67.  E.  Renan,  Les  ApCtres,  pp.  179-83. 

68.  Cf.  P.  Cartwright,  C.  J.  Finney,  Othloh,  H.  Alline,  J. 
Hoskins,  Colonel  Gardiner,  etc.,  etc. 

69.  Cf.  Acts  xxvi,  with  ix  and  xxn. 

70.  E.  Renan,  Les  Apdtres,  Introduction,  p.  xliv. 

71.  The  Acts  of  the  Apostles  in  Greek  and  English,  p.  337. 

72.  Commentary  on  Acts,  p.  169. 

73.  Paul  the  Mystic,  p.  55. 

74.  Hibbert  Lectures,  "Paul,"  pp.  34-35. 

75.  "Paul,"  p.  67. 

76.  Ibid.,  p.  77. 

77.  Commentary  on  the  Acts  (Gloag's  trans.),  p.  183. 

78.  Paul. 

79.  Acts,  p.  347. 

80.  Commentary  on  Acts. 

81.  Life  and  Epistles  of  Paul. 

82.  The  Apostolic  Age,  p.  121. 

83.  The  Apostle  Paul,  pp.  63-67. 

84.  The  Acts. 

85.  Ibid.,  p.  153. 

86.  The  Apostolic  Age,  p.  119. 

87.  1  Cor.  ix,  1;  Gal.  I,  12. 

88.  See  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture. 

89.  Cf.  also  Count  Schouvaloff. 

90.  Table-Talk   (Hazlitt),  p.  77. 

91.  See  Bibliography  of  Cases,  also  add  the  joy  mentioned 
by  Rev.  Jonathan  Edwards,  and  that  of  Stephen  H. 
Bradley  (both  in  James,  Varieties  of  Religions  Experi- 
ence). 

92.  As,  for  instance,  Ubertino  da  Casale,  who  calls  Jesus 
his  "brother." 

93.  J.    Edwards,    Narrative    of    Surprising    Conversions; 
Works,  vol.  in,  p.  259. 

94.  John  Banks,  Christopher  Story,  etc. 

95.  Table-Talk  (Hazlitt),  p.  175. 

96.  Augustin. 


510  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

97.  Fox. 

98.  Wesley. 

CHAPTER  VIII 

1.  Paradiso  xxxm,  46. 

2.  History  of  Latin  Christianity,  vol.  vm,  p.  217. 

3.  Milman,  op.  cit.,  vol.  vm,  p.  404. 

4.  Th.  Gomperz,  Greek  Thinkers,  vol.  n,  p.  45. 

5.  Francis  Thompson,  Poems. 

6.  Such  as:  F.  von  Hiigel,  Mystical  Element  of  Religion. 
E.  Underbill,  Mysticism.    Rufus  Jones,  Studies  in  Mys- 
tical Religion.    E.  Lehmann,  Mysticism   in  Heathen- 
dom  and  Christianity,  etc. 

7.  Dante  and  the  Mystics,  p.  26. 

8.  Hid.,  p.  29. 

9.  E.  Underbill,  Mysticism,  pp.  70-72. 

10.  Milman,  op.  cit.,  vol.  vni,  p.  240. 

11.  R.  M.  Jones,  Studies  in  Mystical  Religion,  p.  xv. 

12.  S.  T.  Coleridge,  Aids  to  Reflection,  vol.  i,  p.  307. 

13.  R.  M.  Jones,  Studies  in  Mystical  Religion,  p.  xxi. 

14.  E.  Underbill,  Mysticism,  pp.  62-63. 

15.  These  terms  were  apparently   the   invention   of  Dio- 
nysius  the  Areopagite. 

16.  Urn-Burial,  p.  71. 

17.  W.  James,  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience,  pp.  14-15. 

18.  E.  Underbill,  Mysticism,  pp.  70-71. 

19.  F.  von  Hiigel,  Mystical  Element  of  Religion,  vol.  i,  p. 
135. 

20.  One  might  profitably  compare  the  statement  of  Ben- 
jamin Brown,  the  Mormon  elder,  in  his  Testimonies  for 
the  Truth,  that  during  a  protracted  camp-meeting  his 
mind  was  so  absorbed  in  Spiritual  things,  he  ate  or 
drank    "scarcely    anything'*   for   a   fortnight,    during 
which  the  Lord  sustained  him. 

21.  Cf.  Paul. 

22.  Thus  there  must  be  excluded  from  further  use   in 
these  pages,  the  cases  of  the  Catherines  of  Genoa  and 
of   Siena;    MM.  de'  Pazzi,  Bernard  of  Clairvaux,   and 


NOTES  511 

Francis  of  Assisi.    The  legend  by  Thomas  of  Celano, 
exquisite  as  it  is,  cannot  be  serviceable  here. 

23.  Such  are  Pierre  Janet,  Grasset,  Th.  Ribot,  B.  Dela- 
croix, etc. 

24.  E.  Underbill,  Mysticism,  p.  57. 

25.  Ibid.,  pp.  62-63. 

26.  Ibid.,  p.  71. 

27.  R.    M.    Jones,    Studies    in    Christian    Mysticism,    p. 
xxxvi. 

28.  2  Cor.  xn,  1-7. 

29.  Delacroix,  Etude  sur  VHistoire  du  Mysticisme. 

30.  E.  Lehmann,  Mysticism  in  Heathendom  and  Christian- 
ity, pp.  232-33. 

31.  E.  Delacroix,  Etude  sur  VHistoire  du  Mysticisme. 

32.  There   is  a  certain  interest  for  us  in  the  fact  that 
whereas  Joseph  Smith,  the  Mormon  prophet,  started 
out  by  priding  himself  on  his  ignorance  and  illiteracy, 
just  as  did  these  earlier  cases;  yet,  later,  he  claimed 
for  himself  all  the  knowledge  in  the  world;  said  that 
he  "could  read  Greek  as  fast  as  a  horse  could  run"; 
knew   Egyptian   hieroglyphics,   and   so  on.    In   other 
words,  he  felt  it  necessary  to  keep  apace  with  his  fol- 
lowers,  who   were   not  mediaeval   disciples,   but  nine- 
teenth-century Americans. 

33.  Lecky    (European  Morals,  vol.  n,  pp.  114  ft.)   points 
out  the  disfavor  in  which  the  ascetics  held  any  in- 
tellectual occupation. 

34.  Cf.  Guibert,  Jerome,  Othloh. 

35.  History  of  Latin  Christianity,  vol.  vm,  p.  301. 

36.  E.  Underbill,  Mysticism,  pp.  70-71. 

37.  Ibid.,  pp.  72-73. 

38.  F.  von  Hiigel,  Mystical  Element  of  Religion,  vol.  n, 
p.  32. 

39.  In  Life,  by  Porphyry  (trans,  by  Thomas  Taylor). 

40.  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  n,  pp.  187-88. 

41.  Table-Talk  (Hazlitt),  p.  4. 

42.  In   a   letter   to   Can   Grande.     (See   Latham,   Dante's 
Eleven  Letters,  cited  by  Edmund  Gardner,  Dante  and 
the  Mystics,  p.  32.) 


512  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

43.  Translated  by  Edmund  Gardner,  op.  cit.,  Ibid.,  pp.  178- 
79.    Cf.  Angela  da  Foligno,  Book  of  Visions,  pp.  36,  37, 
74,  98. 

44.  Edmund  Gardner,  op.  cit.,  pp.  158-59. 

45.  Confessions  (Pusey),  book  ix. 

46.  De  Quantitate  Animw,  translated  by  Edmund  Gardner, 
in  Dante  and  the  Mystics,  p.  46. 

47.  Evelyn  Underbill,  Mysticism,  p.  318. 

48.  Hid.,  p.  324. 

49.  See  Bibliography  of  Cases,  A.  da  Foligno. 

50.  See  Bibliography  of  Cases,  Loyola. 

51.  E.  Underbill,  Mysticism,  p.  457. 

52.  Vaughan,  Hours  with  the  Mystics,  vol.  n,  p.  357  (note). 
(Gives  further  the  years  of  suffering  before  the  ecstatic 
stage  was  reached,  of  certain  other  saints  and  hermits. 
These  correspond  to  the  data  furnished  under  "Depres- 
sion.") 

53.  E.  Delacroix,  Etude  sur  VHistoire  du  Mysticisme,  p. 
181. 

54.  Ibid.,  p.  391. 

55.  Ibid.,  p.  325. 

56.  Book  of  Visions  and  Instructions,  p.  57. 

57.  She  died  in  1896. 

58.  History  of  the  Inquisition  in  Spain,  vol.  iv,  p.  6. 

59.  Book  of  Visions  and  Instructions,  p.  68. 

60.  Riley,  The  Founder  of  Mormonism,  p.  183. 

61.  Milman,   History  of  Latin  Christianity,   vol.   vm,   p. 
301. 

62.  Lea,  Chapters  on  the  Religious  History  of  Spain,  pp. 
240-41. 

63.  Ibid.,  "Mystics  and  Illuminati,"  p.  214. 

64.  Ibid.,  pp.  215-16. 

65.  Ibid.,  pp.  246-48. 

66.  Ibid.,  pp.  309-17. 

67.  Ibid.,  p.  426    (note).    The  one  at  Quesnoy  la  Conte, 
in  Flanders,  in  1491  lasted  seven  years. 

68.  History  of  the  Inquisition  in  Spain,  vol.  rv,  pp.  4-6. 

69.  H.   C.   Lea,   History   of   the  Inquisition,   vol.   iv,   pp. 
39-40. 


NOTES  513 

70.  Ibid.,  vol.  iv,  p.  80. 

71.  H.  C.  Lea,   Chapters  from  the  Religious  History  of 
Spain,  p.  227  (note). 

72.  See  S.  Reinach,  Orpheus,  p.  390. 

73.  Migne,  Teresa,  vol.  ni,  pp.  366-68. 

74.  Migne,  vol.  iv,  p.  496. 

1/75.  See  Maria  d'Agreda,  La  Cite  de  Dieu. 

76.  See  Carlo  da  Sezze,  Baptiste  Varani,  Marie  de  1'Incar- 
nation,  etc. 

77.  St.  Augustin   (Poujoulat). 

78.  Sainte-Chantal,  par  1'abbe*  Bougaud.    2  vols. 

79.  E.  Gerard-Gailly,  Bussy-Rabutin,  p.  17. 

80.  Henri  Joly,  Psychology  of  the  Saints. 

81.  E.  Delacroix,  UEtude  sur  VHistoire  du  Mysticisme,  p. 
13. 

82.  Ibid.,  pp.  348-49. 

83.  For    mediaeval    narratives    of   descent    into   hell,    the 
reader  is  referred  to  Marcus  Dod's  The  Forerunners  of 
Dante,  where  a  list  of  them,  with  analyses,  is  given. 
Although  many  of  them  are  written  in  the  first  per- 
son, they  contain  no  important  matter  relating  to  the 
writer. 

84.  Book  of  Visions  and  Instructions,  p.  145. 

85.  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  i. 

86.  Ibid.,  vol.  i,  p.  307. 

87.  Liber  Specialis  Gratice,  i,  19   [translated  by  E.  Gard- 
ner, in  Dante  and  the  Mystics,  pp.  284  ff.]. 

88.  Mystica  Theologia,  Prologus. 

89.  See  Bibliography  of  Cases. 

90.  Cf.  Renan  Les  Apdtres  Introduction. 

91.  "Prison-Life    as    I    found    it."    Century,    September, 
1910,  vol.  LXXX,  p.  1105:     "Service  was  held  every  Sun- 
day, the  Protestant  and  Catholic  chaplains  alternating, 
and  was  non-sectarian  in  character.    It  consisted  of  pray- 
ers, hymns,  musical  numbers,  and  a  sermon,  and  was 
decidedly  perfunctory.    In  fact,  a  prisoner  who  makes 
a  parade  of  his  religion  is  regarded  with  suspicion  not 
only  by  his  mates,  but  also  by  the  officials.    This  is  a 


514  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

natural  result  of  many  cases  of  insanity  preceded  by 
religious  hysteria." 

92.  The  reader  is  referred  to  the  History  of  the  Mormons, 
by  Linn,  and  also  to  Riley,  The  Founder  of  Mormonism. 
Here  he  will  see  that  the  attitude  of  the  audience  had 
a  markedly  deteriorating  influence  upon  the  character 
and  the  teachings  of  Joseph  Smith.    Whereas  he  had 
begun  as  a  credulous,  simple,  and  awestricken  lad,  h« 
speedily  degenerated  into  more  sensational  methods  to 
impress  and  hold  his  followers.    If  they  seem  amaz- 
ingly credulous  to  us — they  often  seemed  stiff-necked 
to  him. 

93.  E.  Underbill,  Mysticism,  p.  69. 

94.  Callaway,  Religion  of  the  Amazulu,  p.  246   (cited  by 
Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  n,  p.  194). 

95.  Ibid.,  p.  194. 

96.  Narrative  of  Nicholas  Perrot,  in  E.  H.  Blair's  Indian 
Tribes,  vol.  i,  pp.  50-51.    Cf.  also  Alice  H.  Fletcher's 
Handbook  of  American  Indians. 

97.  Cited  by  D.  E.  Brinton,  The  Religious  Sentiment,  p. 
130. 

98.  J.  Beaumont,  A  Treatise  of  Spirits,  p.  221. 

99.  See  Autobiography. 

100.  See  also  A.  R.  Burr,  The  Autobiography,  pp.  254-55, 
for    further    cases    of    non-religious    conversion.    Pe- 
trarch's change  is  intellectual,  but  as  it  was  brought 
about  by  the  influence  of  Augustin,  it  is  probably  to 
be  termed  religious:  but  it  was  "Amor"  and  not  "La 
Grace"  which  caused  Dante's  heart  to  cry  out,  "Incipit 
Vita  Nuova!" 

101.  H.   C.   Lea,   Chapters  from  the  Religious  History  of 
Spain,  p.  213. 

102.  As  we  have  already  noted,  they  alternated  with  the 
most  violent  joys,  and  a  self-complacency  beyond  all 
measure. 

103.  Dr.  Lea   (History  of  the  Inquisition,  vol.  n,  p.  364) 
comments  on  the  semi-Hindu  asceticism  "in  the  prac- 
tices of  the  Gottesfreunde,  which  drew  them  down  to 
the  level  of  the  Indian  Yogi." 


NOTES  515 

104.  See    Martin    Luther's    Table-Talk    (Hazlitt),    p.    104 
(anecdote  already  cited). 

105.  Augustin,  Confessions  (Pusey),  book  x;  cf.  book  ix. 

106.  Cf.  Bibliography  of  Cases. 

107.  H.    Maudsley,    Natural    Causes,    p.    271    ff.    Cf.    with 
Joseph  Smith's  Vision  of  Moroni. 

108.  Job  iv,  12-17. 

109.  Acts  xxii,  10. 

110.  Acts  xxvi,  16,  17,  18. 

111.  Linn,  History  of  the  Church,  vol.  i;  Revelation  i-vi. 

112.  Narrative  of  the   Great  Revival,   Works,   vol.   m,  p. 
239. 

113.  Ibid.,  p.  270. 

114.  See  Bibliography  of  Cases. 

115.  See  Bibliography  of  Cases. 

116.  Contained  chiefly  in  P.  Janet,  Mental  State  of  Hysteri- 
cals;  Grasset,  Le  Demi-Fou;  Binet-Sangle",  Varie'tes  des 
Types  Devot,  etc. 

117.  F.  von  Hiige-1,  The  Mystical  Element  of  Religion. 

118.  W.  Hirsch,  Genius  and  Degeneration,  p.  69. 


CHAPTER  IX 

1.  The  Autobiography,  p.  34. 

2.  Francis  B.  Gummere,  Democracy  and  Poetry,  p.  284. 

3.  Scholars  estimate  the  date  of  Job  variously,  as  from 
1000  to  400  years  before  Christ.    The  writer  wishes  it 
to  be  understood  that  she  uses  the  following  quota- 
tions in  a  literary  sense.    The  fact  that  the  consensus 
of  modern  opinion  lends  to  Job  a  sceptical  and  protest- 
ant,  rather  than  a  pious,  significance,  does  not  alter  its 
importance  to  the  present  enquiry.     Nor  does  it  much 
matter  that  the  passages  are  differently  distributed, 
and  that  the  dramatis  personw  are  not  altogether  what 
we  used  to  think, 

4.  Job  xm,  3. 

5.  Ibid.,  ix,  20,  21. 

6.  Ibid.,  XLII,  3. 


516  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

7.  Jevons,   Introduction   to   the   Study   of   Religion,   pp. 
18-19. 

8.  Comte,  Philosophic  Positive  (Martineau's  trans.) ,  p.  523. 

9.  M.  Maeterlinck,  L'Oiseau  Bleu,  Acte  in. 

10.  Job  XLII,  5-6. 

11.  De  Profundis. 

12.  W.  Bagehot.    Literary  Studies,  vol.  n,  p.  412. 

13.  Matt,  v,  20. 

14.  Matt,  xxiii,  23. 

15.  For  the  discussion  of  this  question  see  Bduard  Meyer, 
History  of  Antiquity,  and  E.  Havet,  Le  Christianisme 
et  ses  Origines. 

16.  Gaston  Boissier,  La  Religion  Romaine. 

17.  Jesse    B.    Carter,    Religious    Life    in   Ancient   Rome, 
chap.  in. 

18.  E.  Renan,  Les  Apdtres,  p.  328. 

19.  Notably  by  S.  Dill,  Roman  Society;  see  also  Jesse  B. 
Carter,  op.  cit. 

20.  1  Cor.  v,  1-7. 

21.  Gal.  m. 

22.  J.  B.  Carter,  Religious  Life  of  Ancient  Rome,  p.  9. 

23.  Hid.,  pp.  72-73. 

24.  Allan  Menzies,  History  of  Religion,  p.  114. 

25.  H.  C.  Lea,  op.  cit. 

26.  A.  Menzies,  History  of  Religion,  p.  323. 

27.  Cf.  Augustin,  the  St.  Victors. 

28.  Hydriotaphia,  p.  51. 

29.  Natural  History  of  Religion,  Works,  vol.  n,  p.  397. 

30.  A.  Comte,  PMlosophie  Positive  (Martineau  trans.),  pp. 
26-27. 

31.  Ibid.,  p.  27. 

32.  A.  Menzies,  op.  cit.,  p.  10. 

33.  Such  as  Hartmann  and  Pfleiderer,  q.  v. 

34.  Orpheus,  pp.  2-3. 

35.  Ibid.,  p.  vn. 

36.  By  the  work  of  J.  G.  Frazer,  Herbert  Spencer,  and  E.  B. 
Tylor;   supplemented  by  special  monographs  such  as 
those  of  Franz  Boas,  A.  E.  Crawford,  and  others. 

37.  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  n,  p.  180. 


NOTES  517 

38.  See  P.  M.  Davenport,  Primitive  Traits,  pp.  20  and  32, 
for  striking  instances  wherein  the  savage  has  bor- 
rowed from  the  Christian. 

39.  Nicholas  Perrot,  Narrative  of  American  Indians.     (See 
E.  H.  Blair's  Indian  Tribes,  and  Fletcher's  Handbook 
of  American  Indians.) 

40.  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  n,  pp.  410-12. 

41.  N.  W.  Thomas,  Natives  of  Australia,  pp.  205-6.  , 

42.  A.  B.  Ellis,  The  Ewe-Speaking  Peoples  of  the  Gold- 
Coast,  p.  150  (note). 

43.  E.  Doutte,  Magie  et  Religion  dans  I'Afrique  du  Nord, 
pp.  91-92. 

44.  Klunzinger,  Upper  Egypt  (cited  by  Maudsley,  in  Nat- 
ural Causes,  p.  181). 

45.  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  n,  p.  414.     ("The  Malay  war- 
rior;  the  Zulu,  and  the  Abipone  of  Hayti  fast  at  in- 
tervals.   A  Hindu  king,  after  three  days'  fast  beheld 
Siva,"  etc.) 

46.  2  Sam.  xxvin,  20-24. 

47.  Encycl.  Brit.,  art.,  "Asceticism." 

48.  Schaff,  vol.  vi,  letter  cxxx. 

49.  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  n,  p.  419. 

50.  See  Bibliography  of  Cases:   Blair,  Conran. 

51.  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  n,  p.  418;  also  Herbert 
Spencer,  Principles  of  Sociology,  vol.  I,  Q,  p.  239. 

52.  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  n.    Cf.  Othloh,  R.  Wil- 
liams, Colonel  Gardiner. 

53.  Spencer,  Principles  of  Sociology,  vol.  i,  Q.  pp.  146-48; 
vol.  i,  2W,  p.  789. 

54.  J.  B.  Carter,  Religious  Life  of  Ancient  Rome,  p.  72. 

55.  N.  W.  Thomas,  Natives  of  Australia. 

56.  E.  Doutte",  Magie  et  Religion,  p.  396. 

57.  R  Nansen,  Eskimo  Life,  p.  258. 

58.  Codrington,  The  Melanesians,  pp.  266  ff.    Haddon,  The 
Papuans,  see  Torres  Straits  Reports,  vol.  i,  p.  252. 

59.  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  i,  p.  439;  cf.  Philo-Judaeus;  also 
Weeks,  Among  Congo  Cannibals,  notes  same  idea  among 
the  Boloki:  among  the  Kaffirs  who  held  the  Soul  was 
connected  with  their  shadow,  Dudley  Kidd,  The  Essen- 
tial Kaffir,  p.  83. 


518  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

60.  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  n,  pp.  498-50. 

61.  Gorres,  Mystique  Divine,  vol.  n,  p.  139. 

62.  2  Cor.  xn,  4. 

63.  Book  of  Visions  and  Instructions,  pp.  36-37,  and  67. 

64.  Letter  xi  (Latham) ;  also  cf.  Angela  da  Foligno,  Book 
of  Visions  and  Instructions. 

65.  Migne,  Way  of  Mt.  Carmel,  (Euvres  de  Terese,  vol.  in. 

66.  To  show  this  tendency  in  operation  the  reader  is  re- 
ferred to  the  three  narratives  of  Paul's  conversion. 

67.  F.  Boas,  The  Mind  of  Primitive  Man,  p.  103. 

68.  See  Bibliography  of  Cases:  Jeanne  des  Anges,  Raoul 
Glaber,  Teresa,  Mme.  Guyon,  etc. 

69.  Wentz,  The  Fairy-Faith  in  Celtic  Countries,  pp.  354-56; 
also  Wood-Martin,  Elder  Faiths  of  Ireland. 

70.  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  n,  p.  79  (note). 

71.  Ibid.,  vol.  n,  p.  93. 

72.  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  n,  p.  109. 

73.  E.  Doutte",  Magie  et  Rel,  pp.  338  ff. 

74.  Ibid.,  p.  494. 

75.  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  n,  p.  138. 

76.  Nansen,  Eskimo  Life,  p.  225;   and  A.  B.  Ellis,  Ewe- 
Speaking  Peoples,  p.  21  ff.;  Hose  and  McDougall,  Pagan 
Tribes  of  Borneo. 

77.  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  n,  pp.  138  ff. 

78.  Wentz,  Fairy-Faith. 

79.  Gorres,  vol.  n,  p.  141. 

80.  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  n,  pp.  125  ff. 

81.  See  Hose  and  McDougall,  The  Pagan  Tribes  of  Borneo. 

82.  Codrington,  p.  220. 

83.  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  n,  139. 

84.  Doutte",  Magie  et  Rel.,  p.  602. 

85.  Lecky,  Europ.  Morals,  vol.  i,  p.  381. 

86.  Lea,  Hist,  of  Inquis.,  vol.  in,  p.  381,  names  Origen, 
Gregory  the  Great,  S.  Equitius  (who  acted  as  an  exor- 
cist), Caesarius  of  Heisterbach,  and  Thomas  of  Can- 
timpre',  as  sharing  to  the  full  the  belief  in  demonology 
and  its  subsidiary  beliefs.    "The  blessed  Reichelm  of 
Schongan,   about   1270,   claimed   to  behold  crowds  of 
spirits  under  numberless  forms." 


NOTES  519 

87.  It  will  not  do  to  forget  that  the  intellectual  Wesley 
acted  as  exorcist  on  more  than  one  occasion.     (See 
Journal,  i,  Oct.)     He  expelled  the  demon  from  a  con- 
vulsed young  woman,  who  insisted  that  Satan  "was  let 
loose." 

88.  I.  W.  Riley,  The  Founder  of  Mormonism,  pp.  258-59. 

89.  IMd.,  p.  260. 

90.  Cited  by  Riley,  op.  Git.,  p.  277  (note). 

91.  Riley,.  The  Founder  of  Mormonism,  p.  277. 

92.  IMd.,  p.  280;  and  p.  281. 

93.  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  n,  p.  141  (note). 

94.  Nevius,  Demon  Possession  in  China. 

95.  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  n,  pp.  130  ft. ;  406  ft.    For 
compacts  with  the  Devil  see  Lea,  History  of  the  Inqui- 
sition in  Spain,  vol.  iv,  p.  205;    also  History  of  the 
Inquisition,  vol.  in,  p.  424,  wherein  he  notes  such  cov- 
enants made  on  little  rolls  of  parchment  and  carried 
under  the  arm-pit.     (Caesarius  of  Heisterbach.) 

96.  J.  B.  Carter,  Religious  Life  of  Ancient  Rome,  pp.  12-13. 

97.  See  Bibliography  of  Cases:   Bewley,  Haliburton,  Bos- 
ton, and  Lobb. 

98.  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  n,  p.  130. 

99.  IMd.,  vol.  ii,  pp.  132-33;  also  cf.  Hose  and  McDougall, 
The  Pagan  Tribes  of  Borneo,  vol.  11,  chap.  n. 

100.  Maudsley,  Natural  Causes,  p.  32. 

101.  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  i,  p.  453. 

102.  IMd.,  vol.  11,  p.  7. 

103.  Adams,  Curiosities  of  Superstition,  p.  243;  also  Wood- 
Martin,  Elder  Faiths  of  Ireland,  vol.  i,  p.  371,  where  he 
says  that  the  wail  of  the  banshee  resembled  the  sound 
of  an  ^Eolian  harp. 

104.  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  i,  p.  453. 

105.  Hamlet,  i,  1. 

106.  Al-Koran,  Sura  cxrv,  last  verse. 

107.  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  i,  p.  453  (note) :  Dr.  Lea 
cites  the  case  of  Vicente  Herman,  a  hermit,  tried  be- 
fore the  Inquisition  who  said  that  "Demons,  with  the 
voice  of  -flies  had  been  recalling  his  sins."     (Inquisition 
in  Spain,  vol.  iv,  p.  71.)     This  "buzzing"  was  char- 
acteristic.   Cf.  J.  G.  Frazer,  Taboo,  p.  34. 


520  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

108.  De  Vita  propria  Liber. 

109.  Jewish  Encyclopedia. 

110.  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  i,  p.  452. 

111.  Isaiah  xxix,  4. 

112.  Isaiah  vni,  19. 

113.  See  Bibliography  of  Cases. 

114.  "Catarrhal  otitis  media." 

115.  Ballinger,  Diseases  of  the  Ear,  p.  735. 

116.  Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  vol.  i,  p.  436. 

117.  A.  E.   Crawley,  Idea  of  the  Soul   (in  Wentz,  Fairy- 
Faith,  pp.  200-6;  239).    Frazer,  Taboo,  pp.  26,  300. 

118.  N.  W.  Thomas,  Natives  of  Australia. 

119.  Nansen,  Eskimo  Life,  pp.  226-27. 

120.  Cf.  Wentz,  op.  cit.,  and  Frazer,  The  Golden  Bough,  vol. 
n,  p.  248. 

121.  Ibid.,  p.  438;  L.  Hearn,  Two  Years  in  the  French  West 
Indies;  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  i,  pp.  450  /f.; 
Ill  ff.;  Wood-Martin,  Elder  Faiths  of  Ireland,  vol.  n, 
p.   296.    The   soul   was   like  a  butterfly   or  a  moth. 
Frazer,  Taboo,  pp.  35-37. 

122.  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  n,  pp.  200  ff . 

123.  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  n,  pp.  186-90  ff. 

124.  See  Conversions  of  Pascal,  Chingwauk  the  Algonquin, 
Catherine  Wabose,  J.  Smith,  Henry  Alline.- 

125.  N.  W.  Thomas,  Natives  of  Australia,  p.  240. 

126.  Spencer  and  Gillen,  Native  Tribes  of  Central  Australia, 
pp.  "523  ff. 

127.  Gorres,  Mystique  Divine,  vol.  n,  chaps,  xrv,  xvi. 

128.  Mystique  Divine,  vol.  n,  p.  5. 

129.  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  n,  pp.  149-52. 

130.  Riley,  The  Founder  of  Mormonism,  p.  188. 

131.  Cf.  Alphonse  de  Ratisbonne,  Peter  Favre,  Loyola;  and 
see  the  memoirs  of  George  Sand  and  Edmund  Gosse. 
Lea   (Inquisition  in  Spain,  vol.  iv,  p.  36)   notes  that 
beads,  crosses,  blessed  medals,  satisfied  this  great  de- 
mand for  the  fetich.     (Ibid.,  pp.  76,  204.)     The  Lab- 
arum  of  Constantine  was  a  fetich.     (Inquisition,  vol. 
in,  p.  394.) 


NOTES  521 

CHAPTER  X 

1.  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  n,  pp.  359  ff. 

2.  Cf.  Lecky,  History  of  European  Morals;  Gregorovius, 
History  of  the  Middle  Ages;  Hallam,  A  View  of  the 
State  of  Europe  during  the  Middle  Ages;  the  Works 
of  Henry  C.  Lea,  etc. 

3.  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  i,  p.  16. 

4.  See  Salimbene's  Chronicle;  and  cf.  the  extravagances 
and  immoralities  of  the  Mormon  revelation. 

5.  Middle  Ages,  vol.  n,  pp.  492-93. 

6.  Cf.  F.  M.  Davenport,  Primitive  Traits  in  Religious  Re- 
vival, p.  9,  who  notes  the  Southern  Mountaineers  and 
the  Russians  of  the  steppes;  also  see  p.  64. 

7.  Magie  et  Religion,  p.  347. 

8.  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  i,  pp.  138-39. 

9.  Ibid.,  vol.  i,  pp.  136-37. 

10.  Ibid.,  vol.  i,  p.  139.    Cf.  also,  Michelet,  La  Sorciere. 

11.  Cf.  Nevius,  Demon  Possession  in  China. 

12.  Read  the  confessions  of  Madeleine  Bavent,  Marie  de 
Sains;   the  Salem  trials;   read  Michelet,  La  Sorciere; 
and  George  Sinclar,  Satan's  Invisible  World  Discov- 
ered, containing  the  trials  of  Major  Weir  and  his  sister 
in  Scotland,  in  the  seventeenth  century. 

13.  A.  B.  Ellis,  The  Ewe-speaking,  and  the  Joruba-speaking 
People  of  the  Gold-Coast. 

14.  W.  Notestein,  History  of  Witchcraft,  p.  3;  notes  tradi- 
tions of  cannibal  feasts  among  the  Irish  before  the 
fourteenth  century. 

15.  History  of  the  Inquisition  in  Spain,  vol.  iv,  p.  206. 

16.  W.  Notestein,  History  of  Witchcraft,  p.  3. 

17.  Lea,  History  of  the'  Inquisition  in  Spain,  vol.  iv,  p. 
206. 

18.  Ibid.,  p.  208. 

19.  Michelet,  in  his  wonderful  chapter  on  "La  Sorcellerie 
aux  convents,"  thinks  that  the  Sabbat  was  really  the 
nocturnal  revolt  of  him  who  was  serf  and  vassal  by 
day,  and  who  by  night  dreamed  of  a  perverse  freedom 
(liliberte  immonde").    But  Michelet's  dramatization  of 
the  Sabbat  serves  only  to  bring  more  vividly  before 


522  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

our  ideas  and  eyes,  its  primordial  origins — its  persist- 
ence as  a  survival. 

20.  Lea,  History  of  the  Inquisition,  vol.  HI,  p.  408.     (The 
earliest  account  is  in  1357.) 

21.  Ibid.,  p.  508. 

22.  IUd.,  p.  413. 

23.  Gorres,  op.  cit.,  vol.  11,  pp.  226-42;  and  also  cf.  the  un- 
fortunate Magdalena  de  la  Palude,  Michelet,  Histoire 
de  France,  vol.  n,  pp.  309,  330-32;  cf.  also  Davenport, 
Primitive  Traits,  p.  64. 

24.  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience,  pp.  483  ff. 

25.  Riley,  op.  cit.,  p.  268. 

26.  James,  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience,  p.  583  ff. 

27.  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  i,  p.  144. 

28.  The  Making  of  Religion,  p.  150. 

29.  The  Golden  Bough,  Preface,  p.  viii. 

30.  Les  Apdtres,  p.  16. 

31.  Work,  vol.  m,  pp.  233  ff. 

32.  Davenport,  Primitive  Traits,  pp.  64,  20-32,  261. 

33.  William  Vaughn  Moody,  Poems. 

34.  F.  Boas,  The  Mind  of  Primitive  Man,  p.  237. 

35.  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  n,  pp.  144-45. 

36.  A.  C.  Emmerich,  Gertrude  of  Eisleben,  Suso. 

37.  See  "Depression." 

38.  Fanny  Pittar,  Jane  Hoskins. 

39.  Mme.  Guyon,  Blanco  White. 

40.  Salimbene,  Angela  da  Foligno. 

41.  Francis  Newman. 

42.  Sainte-Chantal. 

43.  Migne,  Terese,  vol.  m,  p.  354. 

44.  Migne,  Terese,  vol.  iv,  "Audi  Filia,  et  Vide,"  cap.  xcvn. 

45.  History  of  Latin  Christianity,  vol.  vm,  p.  301. 

46.  Says  St.  Jerome,  "The  duty  of  a  monk  is  not  to  teach 
but  to  weep."    Contra  Vigilant,  cap.  xv.    Melancholy 
is  thus  seen  to  have  been  regularly  taught  and  advo- 
cated. 

47.  Gilbert  Murray,  Four  Stages  of  Greek  Religion,  p.  48. 

48.  Weeks,  Among  Congo  Cannibals,  p.  298. 


NOTES  523 

"», 

49.  Cf.  J.  Macmillan  Brown,  Maori  and  Polynesian,  p.  79, 
who  calls  it  "the  plague  of  sacredness."    J.  G.  Frazer, 
in  Taboo,  p.  214  and  p.  219,  strikingly  upholds  this 
idea  when  he  writes  of  the  "few  old  savage  taboos 
which,  masquerading  as  an  expression  of  the  divine 
will,  .  .  .  have  maintained  their  credit  long  after  the 
crude  ideas  out  of  which  they  sprang  have  been  dis- 
carded by  the  progress  of  thought  and  knowledge." 

50.  Herbert  Spencer,  Principles  of  Sociology,  vol.  i,  pp. 
76-77. 

51.  James,  Varieties  of  Religious  Experience,  p.  26. 

52.  Journal,  vol.  vii  (1847). 

53.  Miscellanies,  vol.  i,  p.  81. 

54.  Tylor,  Primitive  Culture,  vol.  v,  pp.  10  ff. 

55.  Cf.  Suso,  Sainte-Chantal,  M.  M.  Alacoque,  James  Lins- 
ley,  etc. 

56.  E.  Renan,  Les  Apdtres,  p.  384. 

57.  Sir  Matthew  Hale.    John  Wesley  cried  out  that  "the 
giving-up  of  witchcraft  is  the  giving-up  of  the  Bible!" 
(Davenport,  Primitive  Traits,  p.  141.) 

58.  George  Sinclar's  Satan's  Invisible  World  Discovered 
(1685). 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  OF  CASES 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  OF  CASES 

A  FEW  cases  in  this  list  are  marked  "unread."  This 
means  that  the  writer  has  been  unable,  after  four  years  of 
search,  to  find  either  the  book  itself,  or  an  extract  of  suf- 
ficient length  to  use  in  her  work.  The  titles  are  included, 
in  case  any  reader  should  be  more  fortunate. 

The  word  "testimony"  after  a  Quaker  name  refers  to 
the  collection  of  testimonies  contained  in  the  series  called 
"Memorials  of  Departed  Worth." 

The  Methodist  testimonials  in  the  Arminian  Magazine 
have  been  collected  into  Jackson's  "Lives  of  the  Early 
Methodist  Preachers." 

Where  the  book  is  rare,  the  fact  has  been  noted. 

ABELARD,  PIEERE,  1079-1172.  "Historia  Calamitatum,"  in  a 
letter  to  a  friend;  "Lettres  Completes,"  trad,  de  M. 
Gre"ard. 

d'AcosTA,  UEIEL,  about  1623.  "Exemplar  Vitae  Humanse." 
Limborch  ed.  trans. 

d'AGREDA,  MARIA,  1602-1665,  Vie  de;  prefixed  to  "La 
Mystique  Cite  de  Dieu."  (See  Gorres,  "Mystique  Divine," 
vol.  i,  pp.  303  ff.;  and  Migne,  "Encycl.  Theologique," 
art.,  "Mysticisme,"  Preface.) 

ALACOQTJE,  MARGARET  MARY,  1647-1690.  Me"moire,  written 
for  her  director. 

ALBINUS,  B.  F.  (seu  ALCUINUS),  804.  "Confessio  Fidei." 
(Doubtful.)  Migne,  Patrologia  Latina,  t.  101. 

ALEXANDER,  MARY,  1760-1808  (Quaker).    Testimony  of. 

ALLEN,  JOHN,  1737-1810.  (Methodist  testimony  in  Ar- 
minian Magazine.) 

ALLIES,  THOMAS  W.,  1837-1880.    "A  Life's  Decision." 

ALLINE,  HENRY,  Rev.,  1748-1784  (Presbyterian).  The  Life 
and  Journal  of. 

527 


528  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

AMIEL,  HENRI-FREDERIC,  1821-1881.  "Journal  Intime." 
(Trans,  by  Mrs.  Ward.) 

ANDBEASI,  OSANNA,  1449-1505.  Personal  Record.  (In 
Gorres,  "Mystique  Divine,"  vol.  i,  p.  175.) 

ANGELA  DA  FOLIGNO,  1309.  "Book  of  Visions  and  Instruc- 
tions" (taken  down  from  her  own  lips  by  Brother  Arnold, 
of  the  Friars  Minor). 

ANONYMOUS,  "A  Modem  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  n.  d.  Edited 
by  Bowden. 

ANSELM  OF  CANTERBURY.  "Oratio  Meditative,"  in  contempo- 
rary biography  by  Eadmer  (trans,  in  Rule's  "Life"). 

ABNAULD,  ANGELIQUE,  1742.  "Relation  de  la  vie  de  la  re>- 
e"rende  M§re."  (See  Sainte-Beuve's  "Port-Royal,"  pp. 
84  /T.) 

ASHBRIDGE,  ELIZABETH,  1713-1755  (Quaker).  "Some  account 
of  the  Life  of." 

ASHMAN,  WILLIAM,  1734-1818.  (Methodist  testimony  in 
Arminian  Magazine.) 

AUGUSTINUS,  AURELIUS,  354-430.  "Confessiones,  Retrac- 
tiones  and  Epistolae,"  and  "De  Quantitate  Animae." 
(Trans,  by  Pusey  and  Pilkington,  in  Schaff's  "Nicene 
and  Ante-Nicene  Fathers.") 

BABBAGE,  CHARLES,  1796-1864.    "Passages  from  the  Life  of  a 

Philosopher." 

BACKUS,  ISAAC,  1724-1806.    Autobiography  of. 
BACON,  ROGER,   1292.    Opus  Tertium,  Letter,  or  Apologia. 

(Translation  of  H.  O.  Taylor,  in  "The  Mediaeval  Mind.") 
BANGS,  BENJAMIN,  1652.    Quaker  testimony. 
BANKS,  JOHN,  1747-1810  (Quaker).    Journal  of. 
BASHKIRTSEV,  MABIE,  1860-1884.    "Me"moires;   Journal  d'un 

jeune  Artiste." 
BAVENT,  MADELEINE,  1642.  Confession  of.    (In  Boisroger  "La 

Piete"    Afflige"e,"   Rome,    1652;    also    Gorres,    vol.    v,    pp. 

226-42.) 
BAXTER,     RICHARD,     1615-1691.    "His     Life     and     Times" 

(Ed.  by  Calamy). 
BEACH,  CHARLES  FISK,  1910  (Catholic).     (In  Curtis,  "Some 

Roads  to  Rome  in  America.") 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  529 

BEAUMONT,  JOHN,  1732.    "A  Treatise  of  Spirits." 

BEECHES,  HENRY  WARD,  1813-1887  (Presbyterian).  Auto- 
biographical Notes,  in  Life  of,  by  his  son. 

BELLARMIN,  ROBERTO,  Cardinal,  1542-1621.  "Vita."  (Ger- 
man trans.,  Dollinger.) 

BENSON,  ROBERT  HUGH,  1913  (Catholic).  "Confessions  of  a 
Convert." 

BERKELEY,  GEORGE,  1685-1753.  "Principles  of  Human  Knowl- 
edge." 

BERTRAND,  L.  A.,  n.  d.  (Mormon).  "Les  Me"moires  d'un 
Mormon."  [  Unread.  ] 

BESANT,  MRS.  ANNIE,  1847.    An  Autobiography. 

BEWLEY,  GEORGE,  1684  (Quaker).  "Narrative  of  the  Chris- 
tian Experiences  of." 

BLACK,  WILLIAM,  1760-1834.  (Methodist  testimony,  in 
Arminian  Magazine.) 

BLAIR,  ROBERT,  1593-1666  (Presbyterian).  Autobiography. 
(Unfinished.) 

BOEHME,  JACOB,  1574-1624.    "Aurora." 

BONAVENTURA,  ST.  (JOHN  OP  FiDANZA),  1221-1274.  "Itiner- 
arium  mentis  in  Deum."  Opera  Omnia,  3d  ed.;  also 
Edmund  Gardner,  "Dante  and  the  Mystics." 

BOST,  A.  Memoires  de.  ( See  James,  "Varieties  of  Religious 
Experience.")  [Unread.] 

BOSTON,  THOMAS,  OF  ETTRICK,  1676-1732  (Presbyterian). 
"Memorials  of  the  Life  of";  addressed  to  his  children. 

BOURIGNON,  ANTOINETTE,  1616-1680.  Works;  "Vie  In- 
terieure";  and  "Life,"  by  Poiret,  containing  an  "Apologie." 

BOWNAS,  SAMUEL,  1676-1753  (Quaker).    An  account  of. 

BRADLEY,  STEPHEN  H.,  Conn.,  1830.  Sketch  of  the  Life  of. 
(Extracts,  in  James,  "Varieties  of  Religious  Experience.") 

BRAINERD,  DAVID,  1718-1747  (Presbyterian).  Autobiog- 
raphy. 

BRAITHWAITE,  ANNA,  1788-1829  (Quaker).    Journal. 

BRAY,  CHARLES,  1811-1884.  "Phases  of  Opinion  and  Ex- 
perience." 

BRAY,  BILLY,  1794-1868.  Memoir  of,  called  "The  King's 
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530  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

BBIGITTE  OP  SWEDEN,  1302-1373.    Revelations.     (Little  Bol- 

landists;  Guerin.) 
BBOWN,  BENJAMIN,  1853   (Mormon).    "Testimonies  for  the 

Truth." 
BROWNE,  ROBERT,  1550-1633  (Puritan).    "A  True  and  Short 

Declaration."    (24  pp.,  rare:  Lambeth  Palace  Collection.) 

See  Dexter,  "Congregationalism  as  seen  in  its  Literature." 
BROWNE,   SIR  THOMAS,   1605-1682.    "Religio  Medici:    in  a 

letter  to  a  friend." 

BROWNING,  ELIZABETH  BARRETT,  1806-1861.    Letters. 
BRUNO,    GIORDANO,    1548-1600.    Constitute    di.     (Domenico 

Berti,  "Sua  Vita  e  sua  Dottrina.") 

BRYSSON,  GEORGE,  1649-1714    (Presbyterian).    Memoir;   ed- 
ited by  Dr.  M'Crie. 
BULL,  GEORGE  H.  (Catholic).     (In  Curtis,  "Roads  to  Rome 

in  America.") 
BUNYAN,  JOHN,  1628-1688.     "Grace  Abounding  to  the  Chief 

of  Sinners." 
BUTTERWORTH,  H.  T.    "Reminiscences  and  Memories,  Ohio, 

1886."     [Unread.} 
BYRON,   LORD,   1788-1824.     Journals   and   Memoranda;    also 

autobiographical  material  in  "Letters  and  Life"  of,  by 

Moore,  and  E.  C.  Mayne. 

CAIRNS,  ELIZABETH,  1762.  Memoir  of,  edited  by  J.  Greig, 
Glasgow.  (In  Thomas  Upham's  "Interior  Life,"  pp. 
100-2.)  [Unread.] 

CALVIN,  JOHN,  1509-1564.     "Opuscula,"  in  Opera  Omnia. 

CAPERS,  WILLIAM,  1790-1855  (Methodist).    Autobiography. 

CARDAN,  JEROME,  1501-1576.  "De  Vita  propria  Liber,"  in 
Opera. 

CARLO  DA  SEZZE,  1613-1670.  Vita  di,  by  P.  M.  A.  di  Vicenza, 
Venice,  1881. 

CARRE  DE  MONTGERON,  1686-1754.  Autobiographie,  prece"dant 
1'ouvrage  intitule1  "La  Ve"rite"  des  Miracles  de  M.  de  Paris." 
(In  Mathieu,  "1'Histoire  des  Miraculees  de  St.  Me"dard." 
Paris,  1864.) 

CARTWRIGHT,  PETEB,  1785-1856  (Methodist).  An  autobiog- 
raphy of. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  531 

CABVOSSO,  WILLIAM,  1750-1834  (Methodist).   Autobiography. 
CASAUBON,    ISAAC,   1559-1614.    Diary   of,   called   "Ephemer- 

ides."    Clarendon  Press. 

CASTIGLIONCHIO,  LAPO  DI,  n.  d.     (Thirteenth  century;  Flor- 
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CATHERINE  OF  BOLOGNA,  1463.    Revelations  (posthumous;  in 

Little  Bollandists;  Gu6rm). 
CATHERINE  OF  GENOA,  1447-1510.    Conversion  of,  in  Vita  di. 

(See  Von  Hiigel,  "Mystical  Element  of  Religion.") 
CATHERINE  OF  SIENA   (BENINCASA),  1347-1380.     Letters  of, 

edited  by  V.  Scudder;  and  "Life,"  by  Edmund  Gardner. 
CATON,  WILLIAM,  n.  d.     (Quaker  testimony.) 
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Symonds,  trans.) 

CHALKLEY,  THOMAS,  1675-1739  (Quaker).     Journal  of. 
CHANTAL,  JEANNE  F.  FREMYOT  DE,  1572-1641.    "Histoire  de," 

par  1'abbe  Bougaud. 
CHARLES,  HENRI.    Memorial  of,  with  confession.     (In  H.  B. 

Irving,  "French  Criminals  of  the  19th  Century,"  p.  210.) 
CHURCHMAN,  JOHN,  1705-1775  (Quaker).  Life  of. 
CIBBER,  COLLEY,  1671-1757.     "Apology  for  the  Life  of." 
CLARKE,  JAMES  FREEMAN,  1810.    Autobiography. 
COLEMAN,  CARYL  (Catholic  conversion).     (In  Curtis,  "Some 

Roads  to  Rome  in  America."    1910.) 
COLLINS,  ELIZABETH,  1755-1831.     (Quaker  testimony.) 
CONRAN,  JOHN,  1739-1827.     (Quaker  testimony.) 
COPUS,   J.   E.    (Catholic   conversion).     (In    Curtis,    "Some 

Roads  to  Rome  in  America."    1910.) 
CORNABY,  HANNAH   (Mormon).    Autobiography. 
CRISP,  STEPHEN,  1692  (Quaker).    "A  Journal  of  the  Life  of." 
CROKER,  JOHN,  1673.     (Quaker  testimony.) 
CROOK,  JOHN,  about  1654   (Quaker).    "A  Short  History  of 

the  Life  of."     Rare. 

CROWLEY,  ANN,  1826.     (Quaker  testimony.) 
CRUDEN,  ALEXANDER.    "Autobiography  of  Alexander  the  Cor- 
rector."   Scots,    18th    century;    rare.     (Prefixed   to   first 

ed.  of  Concordance.)     [Unread.] 
CUSINAS,  FRANCOIS  DE,  1863.    Brussels.    "Me"moire,"  edited 

by  Campan.     [Unread.] 


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DANTE  AUGHIEBI,  1265-1321.  Letter  to  Can  Grande.  (Lath- 
am's trans.,  entitled  "Dante's  Eleven  Letters.") 

DAVID,  CHBISTIAN,  1738  (Moravian).  Wesley's  "Journal," 
vol.  i,  pp.  120-22. 

DAVIES,  RICHARD,  1685-1707  (Quaker).  "An  Account  of  the 
Convincements,  Services,  Exercises,  and  Travels  of." 

DAVY,  SIB  HUMPHBY,  1778-1829.  "On  the  Effects  of  Nitrous 
Oxide  Gas,"  in  "Fragmentary  Remains." 

DELELOE,  JEANNE  DE  ST.  MATHIEU,  1604-1660.  "Une  Mystique 
Inconnue  du  17e  Siecle";  Dom  Bruno  Destre"e,  O.  S.  B. 

DEEBY,  HASKETT,  M.D.  (Catholic  conversion.)  (In  Curtis, 
"Some  Roads  to  Rome  in  America.") 

DESCABTES,  RENE,  1596-1650.  "Discours  de  la  Methode  pour 
bien  conduire  sa  Raison";  also,  "Meditations";  in  CEuvres 
completes. 

DEWEY,  OBVUXE,  1794-1882.    Autobiography. 

DICKINSON,  JAMES,  1659-about  1700.     (Quaker  testimony.) 

DICKINSON,  PEABD,  1758-1802.  (Methodist  testimony  in  the 
Arminian  Magazine.) 

Dow,  LOBENZO,  1777  (Methodist).    "Life  of." 

DUDLEY,  MABY,  1750-1810.     (Quaker  testimony.) 

DUNTON,  JOHN,  1659-1733.    "The  Life  and  Errors  of." 

EBNEBIN,  MABGABET,  1351.  Vie  et  Journal  de.  (See  Gorres, 
vol.  n,  p.  207.) 

EDMUNDSON,  WM.,  1627-1712  (Quaker).  Journal  of  the 
Life  of. 

EDWABDS,  JONATHAN,  1703-1758  (Presbyterian).  Diary, 
Resolutions  and  Conversion  of.  Complete  Works.  Wor- 
cester ed. 

EDWABDS,  MBS.  JONATHAN,  "The  Mystery  of  Pain  and 
Death."  London,  1892.  (See  James,  "Varieties  of  Re- 
ligious Experience,"  p.  276.)  [Unread.} 

ELIPHAZ  THE  TEMANITE,  about  B.C.  400.  (In  the  Book  of 
Job  rv,  12-17.) 

ELIZABETH  OF  SCHONATJ,  1129-1165.  "Revelations."  (In 
Migne,  "Pat.  Lat.,"  t.  195.) 

ELLWOOD,  THOMAS,  1639-1713  (Quaker).    The  Life  of. 

EMEBSON,  RALPH  WALDO,  1803-1882.    Journals,  in  10  vols. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  533 

EMMERICH,   ANNE-CATHERINE,   1774-1824.     "Vie   et  Visions 

de";  R-P  Fr.  J.  A.  Duley. 
ENEAS  SYLVIUS  PICCOLOMINI,  1405-1464.    Commentaries  and 

Letters.     (Boulting's  "Pope  Pius  II.") 
EPHBAIM   SYRUS,  OF  EDESSA,   368.    "Testamentum  et  Con- 

fessiones,"   in   Syriac    (disputed).     (Life   of,   in   Schaff, 

"Ante-Nicene  Fathers.") 
EUDES,  JOHN,  BLESSED,  1601-1680.    "Memoriale  Beneficiorum 

Dei."     (In  "Life"  of,  by  Fr.  Russell.) 
EVANS,  WILLIAM,  1787.     (Quaker  testimony.) 

FAIBBANKS,  HIRAM  F.  (Catholic  conversion).  (In  Curtis, 
"Some  Roads  to  Rome,"  etc.) 

FAVRE,  PETER,  BLESSED,  1506-1546.  "Memoriale,"  and  Spirit- 
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FERY,  JEANNE,  1559-1586.  Confession  of.  (See  Gorres,  vol. 
v,  pp.  136-55.) 

FICHTE,  J.  G.,  1762-1814.  "The  Science  of  Knowledge,"  and 
the  "Destination  of  Man."  (Rand.) 

FIELDING,  HENRY,  1904.    "Hearts  of  Men." 

FINNEY,  CHARLES  G.,  1792-1875.  (Presbyterian.)  "Memoirs 
of." 

FLEAY,  J.  G.,  Experiences  of.  (In  Herbert  Spencer,  "Prin- 
ciples of  Sociology,"  vol.  I,  Part  n,  p.  787.) 

FLECHERE,  J.  DE  LA  (otherwise  Fletcher),  1729-1785 
( Methodist) .  Autobiography. 

FLETCHER,  MARY,  1739-1815.  (Methodist  testimony  in  Ar- 
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FOLLOWS,  RUTH,  1738-1819.     (Quaker  testimony.) 

FONTAINE,  J.  DE  LA,  1658.     (Huguenot  memoirs.) 

FOTHERGILL,  JOHN,  1676.     (Quaker  testimony.) 

FOURNIER,  FBANCOISE,  1685.    "Vie  de  la  mere."     [Unread.} 

Fox,  GEORGE,  1624-1691  (Quaker).  "A  journal,  or  historical 
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FRANCOISE  ROMAINE,  ST.,  1384-1440.  Visions,  in  "Vita,"  by 
J.  Mattioti.  (Guerin.) 

FRANCKE,  AUGUSTUS  HERMAN,  1660-1727.  Memoir;  trans, 
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FBASEE     OF     BRAE,     JAMES,     1639-1700.    (Presbyterian.) 


534  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

Memoirs  of  the  Life  of.     (Tweedie,  Wodrow  Society  Pub- 
lications.) 

FEOUDE,  RICHABD  HUBEELL,  1803-1836.     "Remains  of." 
FULLEBTON,  LADY  GEOBGiANA,  1812-1885.     "The  Inner  Life" 

of.     (In  memoir.) 

FUBZ,  JOHN,  1717-1800.  (Methodist  testimony  in  Arminian 
Magazine.) 

GABDINEB,  COLONEL.  Conversion,  n.  d.  (In  Scott,  "Waver- 
ley,"  vol.  i,  p.  72,  and  in  Hibbert,  "Philosophy  of  Appar- 
itions.") 

GABDINEB,  DB.  WM.,  n.  d.  (Quaker).    Journal. 

GABBETSON,    FBEEBOBN,   1752-1827.     (Methodist   testimony.) 

GATES,  THEOPHILUS,  W.,  1786.    "Trials  and  Experiences  of." 

AL-GHAZZALI,  1056-1111.  "Munquidh  min  ad  dalal."  (Trans, 
into  French  by  Barbier  de  Meynard,  as  "Le  Preservatif 
de  1'Erreur";  also  into  English  as  "Apology,"  by  Claud 
Field,  Wisdom  of  the  East  Series.  See  Amer.  Oriental 
Soc.,  vol.  20,  p.  71;  and  Journal  Asiatique,  7e  serie,  t.  ix, 
Macdonald.) 

GEBTBUDE  OF  EISLEBEN,  1263-1334.  The  Revelations  of  St. 
("Legatus  Divinse  Pietatis,"  book  n.).  Dates  doubtful. 

GIULIANI,  VEBONIQUE,  1660-1727.  Vie  de,  edited  by  M.  Sal- 
vatori,  Rome,  1803.  (See  Gorres,  vol.  n,  pp.  190-93.) 

GLABEBUS,  RODOLPHUS  (RAOUL  GLABEB),  1047.  Chronica. 
(Trans,  by  Guizot,  "Me"moires  pour  Servir,"  T.  v.) 

GOBDON,  ALEXANDEB,   1789    (Presbyterian).    Autobiography. 

GOSSE,  EDMUND,  1908.  "Father  and  Son."  Biographical 
Recollections. 

GOTTESCHALCHUS,  870.  "Confessio,"  and  "Confessio  pro- 
lixior";  Migne,  "Pat.  Lat."  t.  121. 

GOUGH,  JAMES,  1712  (Quaker).    Memoirs  of. 

GOUGH,  JOHN  B.,  1817.    Autobiography. 

GBADIN,  ABVID,  n.  d.  (Moravian).  (In  Wesley's  "Journal," 
vol.  i,  pp.  120-22.) 

GBATBY,  PEBE  A.,  1880.  "Souvenirs  de  ma  Jeunesse."  (See 
James,  "Varieties  of  Religious  Experience,"  pp.  146,  476, 
506.) 

GBATTON,  JOHN,  1643-1712.     (Quaker  testimony.) 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  535 

GREEN,  ASHBEL,  1762-1848  (Presbyterian).    Life  of. 
GBELLET,  STEPHEN,  1773.     (Quaker  testimony.) 
GRIFFITH,  JOHN,  1713-1776.     (Quaker  testimony.) 
GUIBERT    DE    NOGENT,    1053-1124.    Vie    de,    par    lui-meme. 

(In  "Histoire  des  Croisades.") 
GURNETS  OF  EARLHAM,  THE.    By  A.  J.  C.  Hare. 
GUYON,  JEANNE  DE  LA  MOTHE,  1648-1717.    Vie  de,  par  elle- 

meme.     (Eng.  trans.) 

HADLEY,  S.  H.  Conversion  of  (no  date  nor  title).  (See 
James,  "Varieties,"  etc.,  pp.  201-03.) 

HAGGER,  MARY,  1768-1840.     (Quaker  testimony.) 

HAIME,  JOHN,  1710-1734.  (Methodist  testimony  in  Armin- 
ian  Magazine.) 

HALHEAD,  MYLES,  1690  (Quaker).  "A  book  of  some  of  the 
sufferings  and  passages  of  ...  as  also  concerning  his 
labour  and  Travel  in  the  work  of  the  Lord."  (Rare 
tract;  Roberts'  Collection;  Haverford  College.) 

HALIBURTON,  THOMAS,  1674-1711  (Presbyterian).  Auto- 
biography and  Diary,  in  Life. 

HALL,  DAVID,  1683.     (Quaker  testimony.) 

HALL,  JOSEPH,  Bishop  of  Exeter  and  Norwich,  1574-1656. 
"Observations  of  some  specialties  of  Divine  Providence." 

HAMILTON,  ALEXANDER,  1757-1804.  "Reynolds  Pamphlet." 
(In  Works,  Lbdge;  vol.  vii.) 

HAMON,  PERE.  "Relation  de  plusieurs  circonstances  de  la 
vie  de,  faites  par  lui-meme  dans  le  gout  de  St.  Augus- 
tin  .  .  ."  1734.  (See  Sainte-Beuve  "Port-Royal,"  vol.  iv, 
p.  288.)  [Unread.] 

HANBY,  THOMAS,  1733-1796.  (Methodist  testimony  in  Ar- 
minian  Magazine.) 

HANSON,  THOMAS,  1783-1804.  (Methodist  testimony  in  Ar- 
minian  Magazine.) 

HARE,  A.  J.  C.,  1834-1900.    "The  Story  of  my  Life." 

HARRISON,  FREDERIC,  1831.  "Memories  and  Thoughts";  also 
"Apologia  pro  fide  mea." 

HASLETT,  WILLIAM,  1766-1821  (Presbyterian).  Letter,  in 
Life  of. 

HAYES,  ALICE,  1657-1720  (Quaker).    A  short  account  of. 


536  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

HEBMANNUS,  1124  (Allot)  TUITENSIS;  "Opusculum  de  con- 
versione  sua."  (Migne,  "Pat.  Lat."  t.  170.) 

HEYWOOD,  OLIVEB,  1630-1702  (Presbyterian).  Memoirs  of, 
by  Slate. 

HIBBABD,  B.,  1771    (Methodist).    Life. 

HICKMAN,  WILLIAM,  1815  (Mormon).  "Confessions  and  Dis- 
closures." 

HILDEGABDE  OF  BiNGEN,  ST.,  1098-1178.  "Acta;  Vita; 
Scivias  seu  Visiones."  (Migne,  "Pat.  Lat."  t.  197;  also, 
Vie  de;  Chamonal.) 

HOAG,  JOSEPH,  1762-1846   (Quaker).    Memoirs  of. 

HOPKINS,  SAMUEL,  1728-1803.    Autobiography. 

HOPPEE,  CHBISTOPHER,  1722-1802.     (Methodist  testimony.) 

HOBNSBY,  NICHOLAS  L.  (Catholic  conversion.)  (In  "Some 
Roads  to  Rome  in  America.") 

HOSKINS,  JANE,  1693.     (Quaker  testimony.) 

HOWGILL,  FBANCIS,  1618-1668  (Quaker).    Memoirs  of. 

HUDSON-TAYLOB,  J.,  n.  d.    Sketch;  called  "A  Retrospect." 

HULL,  HENBY,  1765-1834   (Quaker).    Memoirs  of. 

HUNTEB,  WILLIAM,  1728-1797.  (Methodist  testimony  in 
Arminian  Magazine.) 

IAMBLICHUS,  330.    "De  mysteriis";  trans.  Thomas  Taylor. 

IVAN  THE  TEBBIBLE,  1530-1584.  Confession  of  (in  two  Let- 
ters, addressed  to  the  Monastery  of  Louzdal.  Russian 
Archives ) .  [  Unread.  ] 

JACKSON,  WILLIAM,  1794-1834  (Methodist).  "A  Man  of 
Sorrows;  or  the  Providence  of  God  displayed." 

JACO,  PETEB,  1729-1781  (Methodist).  A  Letter  to  Wesley 
(in  Arminian  Magazine). 

JAFFBAY,  ALEXANDEB,  1614-1673  (Quaker).  Diary,  etc.;  ed. 
by  Barclay. 

JAMES,  JOHN  ANGELL,  1785-1840.    Autobiography  of. 

JABBATT,  DEVEBEUX,  1732-1800.    Autobiography  of. 

JAY,  ALLEN,  n.  d.  (Quaker).    Autobiography  of. 

JEANNE  DES  ANGES,  1602-1665.  "La  Possession  de  la  mSre," 
par  Drs.  G.  LSgue  et  G.  de  la  Tourette;  preface  de  Char- 
cot;  Paris,  1886. 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  537 

JEFFEEIES,  RICHARD,  1883.    "The  Story  of  my  Heart." 

JEFFEEIS,  EDITH,  1811-1843.     (Quaker  testimony.) 

JEBOME,  ST.,  345-420.  Autobiographical  details  in  "Let- 
ters" and  "Apologies";  also  conversion,  in  Letter  xxn, 
to  Eustochium.  (Schaffs  "Ante-Nicene  Fathers,"  vol. 
vi.) 

JOHN  OF  SALISBURY,  1181.  "Metalogicus."  (In  Migne,  "Pat. 
Lat,"  t.  199.) 

JONES,  PETER,  1802-1860   (Methodist).    Autobiography  of. 

JORDAN,  RICHARD,  1765-1827.     (Quaker  testimony.) 

JOUFFROY,  TH.,  1796-1842.  Experiences  of.  (In  "Nouveaux 
melanges  philosophiques,"  p.  83.) 

JOYCE,  MATTHIAS,  1754-1814.  (Methodist  testimony  in  Ar- 
minian  Magazine.) 

JULIANA  OF  NORWICH,  1373.  Revelations  to  Mother.  (Tick- 
nor  &  Fields,  1864.) 

JUSTIN  MARTYR,  167.  "Dialogue  with  Trypho."  (Schaff's 
"Ante-Nicene  Fathers.") 

KANT,  IMMANUEL,  1724-1804.  "Introduction  to  Prolego- 
mena of  a  Future  Metaphysic";  and  "Dreams  of  a 
Ghost-Seer." 

KELLER,  HELEN,  1911.    "The  Story  of  My  Life." 

A  KEMPIS,  THOMAS  (HEMERCHER),  1379-1471  (?)  "The Three 
Tabernacles." 

KIMBALL,  HEBER,  C.   (Mormon).     Journal,  n.  d. 

KIRK,  EDWARD  N.,  1802-1874  (Presbyterian).  Letter,  in 
Life  of. 

KNAPP,  JACOB,  1799-1867.     Autobiography. 

KNIGHT,  LYDIA   (Mormon),  n.  d.    History  of. 

KNIGHT,  NEWELL  C.  (Mormon),  n.  d.    Journal. 

KRUMMACHER,  F.  W.,  1796-1868.    Autobiography. 

LACENAIRE.  Short  autobiographical  sketch  in  H.  B.  Irving's 
"French  Criminals  of  the  19th  Century,"  p.  30. 

LACKINGTON,  JAMES,  1746-1815.  Memoirs  of  the  first  forty- 
five  years  of  the  life  of. 

LAFARGE,  MARIE,  veuve,  nee  Cappelle.    Me"moires,  1841. 

LATHROP,  JOSEPH,  1731-1820.    Memoir. 


538  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

LAVATER,  JOHANN  KASPAB,  1741-1801.  Journal,  called  "Se 
cret  History  of  a  Self-Observer."  (In  "Geheimes  Tage- 
buch  von  einem  Baobachter  seiner  selbst.") 

LAYTHE,  T.,  1686    (Quaker).    Convincement  of. 

LEAD,  JANE,  1623-1714.    Diary  of.     [Unread.] 

LEDIEU,  n.  d.  (Quietist).  Me"moires  et  journal  de.  [Un- 
read.] 

LEE,  JOHN  D.  (Mormon),  n.  d.  Confessions  of.  (See 
"Mormonism  unveiled.")  [Unread.] 

LEE,  THOMAS,  1717-1786.  (Methodist  testimony  in  Ar- 
minian  Magazine.) 

LEINS,  WILLIAM,  1753-1816.    (Quaker  testimony.) 

LIEBEEMANN,  F.  M.  P.,  1804-1852.  Me"moire.  (Gue"rin,  les 
petites  Bollandistes.) 

LINSLEY,  JAMES  H.,  1787-1844.    Memoir  of. 

LISLE,  AMBROSE  DE,  Life  and  Letters.  (Baker,  1900.)  [Un- 
read.] 

LIVINGSTONE,  JOHN,  1603-1672.  (Presbyterian.)  "A  brief 
historical  relation  of  the  Life  of."  (Wodrow  Society.) 

LIVINGSTONE,  PATRICK,  1634-1694.     (Quaker  testimony.) 

Loss,  DR.  THEOPHILUS,  1678-1755.    "The  Power  of  Faith." 

LOMENIE  DE  BRIENNE  (fils),  1636-1688.  Me"moires  ine"dits 
du  Comte  de. 

LORDE,  ANDRE  DE,  about  1911.  "Avant-propos  de  Theatre  de 
1'Epouvante." 

LORENZINO  DI  MEDICI,  1548-1574.  "L' Apologia  di."  (An- 
cona.) 

LOWENGARD,  PAUL,  1910,  "La  Splendeur  Catholique." 

LOYOLA,  ST.  IGNATIUS,  1491-1556.  Testamentum;  trans,  by 
Rix  (Burns  and  Gates). 

LUCAS,  MARGARET,  1701-1769.     (Quaker  testimony.) 

LUTFULLAH,  1802-1857.  Autobiography  of  (edited  by  East- 
wick)  . 

LUTHER,  MARTIN,  1483-1546.  "Table-Talk"  (Hazlitt) ;  "Let- 
ters, and  Life"  (P.  Smith). 

MACREADY,  WILLIAM  C.,  1793-1873.    Reminiscences  of. 
MACK,  LUCY  (Mormon),  n.  d.    Experiences  of.     (In  Riley, 
"The  Founder  of  Mormonism,"  pp.  20-26.) 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  539 

MACK,  SOLOMON,  1810  (Mormon).    Narrative  of  the  Life  of. 

(Rare.) 
MAINE  DE  BIRAN,  1766-1824.     "Journal  intime."     (GEuvres 

Inedits;    Naville.) 
MARCUS  AURELIUS  ANTONINUS,  121-180.    Meditations  (trans. 

by  Long). 
MARIE  DE  L'INCARNATION   (Ursuline,  of  Quebec),  1599-1672. 

Life,  by  Richadeau. 
MARIE  DE  S.  SACREMENT,  about  1642.    Confession  of.     (Gorres, 

vol.  v,  pp.  156  /f.) 
MARIE  DE  SAINS,  about  1618.    Confession  of.     (Gorres,  vol. 

v.) 
MARIS,   ANN,   1714.    Journal,   entitled,   "The   Path   of   the 

Just." 

MARKS,  DAVID,  1805-1845.    Autobiography  of. 
MABSAY  DE,  about  1773.    Unpublished  autobiography.     (In 

Vaughan,  "Hours  with  the  Mystics,"  p.  391.) 
MARSDEN,  JOSHUA,  1777-1814.     (Methodist  testimony.) 
MARSH,  JAMES,  1794-1842  (Presbyterian).    Account,  in  Life 

of. 

MARSHALL,  CHARLES,  1637-1698.     (Quaker  testimony.) 
MARTYN,  HENRY,  1781-1812.    Short  account,  in  Life  of. 
MARY     OF    THE     ANGELS     (Carmelite),     1661-1717.    Auto- 
biography.    (In  Life  of,  by  G.  O'Neill,  S.J.) 
MARY  OF  THE  DIVINE  HEART    (MARIE  DROSTE-VISCHERINE), 

1863-1899.    Autobiography.     (In  Life  of,  by  L.  Chasles.) 
MASON,  JOHN,  1733-1810.     (Methodist  testimony  in  Armin- 

ian  Magazine.) 
MATHER,  ALEXANDER,  1783-1800.     (Methodist  testimony   in 

Arminian  Magazine.) 
MATHER,    COTTON,    1662-1727.    Journals    and    Meditations. 

(In  Life  of,  by  his  son.) 
MATTHEW,  TOBIE,  SIR,  1577-1655.     "True  Historical  account 

of  the  conversion  of."     (In  Life,  by  A.  H.  Mathew.) 
MCAULEY,  JERRY,  1884.     Sketch,  called  "Transformed."     (In 

his  Life  and  Work,  by  S.  I.  Prime.) 
MECHTELDIS  VON  HACKEBORN,  1241-1310.    Revelations  of  St. 

(In  "Liber  Specialis  Gratise.") 
MECHTILDIS  VON  MAGDEBURG  (beguine),  1212-1280.    Revela- 


540  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

tions,  called  "Offenbarungen;  Oder  Das  Fliessende  Licht 

der   Gottheit;"    ed.    Gall   Morel,    1869.     (See   also   Lina 

Eckenstein,   "Woman   under   Monasticism,"   pp.   332-40.) 
MELVILL,  SIB  JAMES,  1556-1614   (Presbyterian).    "Historic 

of  the  Lyff  of."     (Wodrow  Society.) 
MEBBILL,  W.  S.  (Catholic  conversion).     (In  Curtis,  "Some 

Roads  to  Rome,"  etc.) 
MERSWIN,  RULMAN,  1308-1382.     "Book  of  the  Five  Men," 

and  "Book  of  the  Nine  Rocks."     (See  also  Jundt  "Les 

Amis  de  Dieu.") 
MEYSENBUG,   MALWIDA  VON,  n.   d.    "M6moires  d'une   Ideal- 

iste."     (Trans,  from  German.) 

MITCHELL,  THOMAS,  1726-1785.     (Methodist  testimony.) 
"MONK    OF    EVESHAM,"    1483.    "Revelations    to    a."     (See 

Coulton,  "A  Mediaeval  Garner.") 
MONTAIGNE,  MICHEL  DE,  1533-1592.     Essais  de. 
MOODY,  GBANVILLE,  1812-1887   (Methodist).    Autobiography 

of. 
»«•  MOBE,  DAME  GEBTBUDE,  1606-1633.    Apology,  and  "Confes- 

siones  Amantis."     (In  Weld-Blundell's  "The  Inner  Life 

and  Writings  of.") 
MOBE,  DB.   HENBY,  1614-1687.    Short  Autobiography.     (In 

Ward's   Life.) 

MULLEB,  GEORGE,  1805-1837.    "Narrative  of  the  Lord's  deal- 
ings with." 
MUBLIN,    JOHN,    1722-1799.     (Methodist    testimony    in    Ar- 

minian  Magazine.) 

MUBRAY,  JOHN,  1741-1814.     Autobiography  of. 
MUSSET,  ALFBED  DE,  1810-1857.    "La  Confession  d'un  enfant 

de  Siecle." 


NAYLOB,  JAMES,  n.  d.     (Quaker  testimony.) 

NEALE,  SAMUEL,  1729.     (Quaker  testimony.) 

NEILL,  WILLIAM,  1778-1860  (Presbyterian).    Autobiography. 

NELSON,    JOHN,    1707-1774.     (Methodist    testimony    in    Ar- 

minian  Magazine.) 
NETTSSER,   WENSEL,  n.  d.    (Moravian).     (Cited  in  Wesley's 

"Journal,"  vol.  i,  pp.  120,  122.) 


BIBLIOGRAPHY  541 

NEWMAN,  FRANCIS  W.,  1805  to  about  1850.  "Phases  of 
Faith." 

NEWMAN,  J.  H.,  1801-1890.     "Apologia  pro  Vita  Sua." 

NEWTON,  JOHN,  1725-1807.  Narrative  of  the  Rev.  (In 
Memoir.) 

NICOLAI.  The  Case  of,  n.  d.  (In  Nicholson's  Philosophical 
Journal,  vol.  15.) 

NIETZSCHE,  F.,  1844-1900,  "Ecce  Homo;"  trans,  by  Ludovici. 
("Life,"  by  Halevy.) 

NITSCHMAN,  DAVID,  n.  d.  (Moravian).  (In  Wesley's  "Jour- 
nal," vol.  i,  pp.  120-22.) 

NOVALIS,  FKIEDKICH  VON  HAEDENBUBGH,  1772-1801.    Diary  of. 

OBEBMANN    (E.   P.   DE   SENANCOUB),  1770-1846.    Edited  by 

George  Sand. 
OLIEB,     J.    J.,    1608-1657.,    "M6moires     Spirituelles."     (In 

"Life"  of,  by  Healy-Thompson.) 
OLIVEBS,  THOMAS,  1725-1791.     (Methodist  testimony  in  Ar- 

minian  Magazine.) 
OTHLOH  OF  ST.  EMMEBAN,  1010.    "Liber  de  Visione";  "Liber 

de  Tentationibus  suis."     (In  Migne,  "Pat.  Lat."  T.  146.) 

Trans,  by  E.  C.  Rowland. 
OXLEY,  JOSEPH,  1715.     (Quaker  testimony.) 
OZANAM,  A.  F.,  1813-1854.    Preface  to  Letters  of. 

PASCAL,  BLAISE,  1623-1662.  Conversion  of.  (In  "Pascal," 
by  St.  Gyres,  and  Sainte-Beuve's  "Port-Royal.") 

PATON,  JOHN  G.,  1824  (Presbyterian).    Autobiography. 

PATBICK,  ST.,  398-469.     Confession  of  ("Confessio  Patricii"). 

PATBICK,  SYMON,  Bishop  of  Ely,  1626-1707.  "A  brief  Ac- 
count of  my  Life."  (Oxford,  J.  Parker.) 

PATTISON,  MARK,  1814-1884.    Memoirs  of. 

PAUL,  ST.,  10-62.    Acts,  chapters  ix,  xxn  and  xxvi. 

PAUL  OF  COBDOVA,  869.  Confession  in  metrical  Latin  prose 
(Migne,  "Pat.  Lat.,"  t.  121). 

PAULINUS  PELL^US,  376-460.    "Eucharisticon  de  vita  sua." 

PAYNE,  THOMAS,  1741-1783.  (Methodist  testimony  in 
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542  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

PAWSON,  JOHN,  1737-1806.     (Methodist  testimony  in  Armin- 

ian  Magazine.) 
PEARSON,  JANE,  1734-1816  (Quaker).    "Sketches  of  the  Life 

and  Religious  Experiences  of." 
PELLICAN,  DB.  CONBAD,  1478-1556.     "Chronicon  vitae  ipsius, 

ab  ipso  conscriptum;"  new  ed.    B.   Riggenbach,   Basle, 

1877.     [Unread.] 
PENINGTON,  MARY  (Quaker),  d.  1682.    "A  Brief  Account  of 

My  Exercises  from  My  Childhood." 
PENNYMAN,  JOHN,  1628.     (Quaker  testimony.)     Rare. 
PENRY,  JOHN,  1693  (Puritan).    A  Letter  to  Lord  Burghley, 

in  Ms.,  12  pp.     (See  Dexter's  "Congregationalism  in  its 

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Migne,  "Pat.  Lat.,"  t.  58.) 
PERROT,  JOHN,  n.  d,    "A  Narrative  of  the  Sufferings  of." 

(Rare  tract.) 
PETER,  DAMIANI,  St.,  1000-1072.    Letters  of.     (Migne,  "Pat. 

Lat./'  T.  144,  lib.  v.) 
PETERSEN,  GERLAC,  1378-1411.    "Fiery  Soliloquy  with  God." 

(Early  English  Text  Society.) 
PETRARCA,     FRANCESCO,     1304-1374.    "Letters     Varie,     Fa- 

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PHILLIPS,  CATHERINE,  1726-1794.     (Quaker  testimony.) 
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PIKE,  JOSEPH,  1657-1729.     (Quaker  testimony.) 
PITTAR,  MRS.  FANNY,  1813.    "A  Protestant  Converted." 
PLOTINUS,   204-270.     Enneads   of;    trans.,   Thomas   Taylor; 

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PLUMER,    WILLIAM,    1759-1850.    Experiences    of.     (In    his 

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POMPONAZZI,  PIETRO,  1462-1525.    Apologia  di.     (In  "Pietro 

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PORDAGE,   DR.   JOHN,   OF   BRADFIELD,   BERKS,   1649.    Experi- 
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BIBLIOGRAPHY  543 

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PRICKARD,  JOHN,  1744-1784.  (Methodist  testimony  in 
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PRITCHARD,  JOHN,  1747-1814.  (Methodist  testimony  in 
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544  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

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SCHURMAN,  ANNA  VAN,  1607-1678.  "Eukleria."  (In  Life 
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BIBLIOGRAPHY  545 

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SHALEB,  NATHANIEL  S.,  1841-1906.   Autobiography  of. 

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546  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

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STEPHEN,  SIR  LESLIE,  1832-1904.     "An  Agnostic's  Apology." 

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STORY,  CHRISTOPHER,  1648-1720.     (Quaker  testimony.) 

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TAULER,  JOHN,  1300-1361.     "Life  and  Letters,"  by  Schmidt. 
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TENNANT,    THOMAS,    1741-1793.     (Methodist    testimony    in 

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meme."     (French  trans,  by  Bouix;   also,  Migne,  CEuvres 

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THERESE,  SISTER,  Carmelite,  1873-1896.    "Little  Flower  of 

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THOMAS,  JOSEPH,  1791.     "The  Life  of  the  Pilgrim." 
TOLSTOI,  COUNT  LEON,  1828-1910.    "Ma  Confession";    "Mes 

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TORRY,  ALVIN,  1797  (Methodist).    Autobiography. 
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BIBLIOGRAPHY  547 

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TUCKER,  SARAH,  1779.     (Quaker  testimony.) 
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548  RELIGIOUS  CONFESSIONS 

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INDEX 


INDEX 


Abelard,  138,  175,  211;  attitude  to- 
ward confession,  29,  42;  Letter 
II,  61. 

d'Acosta,  Uriel,  173,  180,  251,  304, 
320. 

Adams,  Curiosities  of  Superstition, 
cited,  438. 

d'Agreda,  Maria,  196-97,  262,  295, 
315,  343,  344,  346,  361,  369, 
379,  381,  388,  428,  437. 

Alacoque,  M.  M.,  188,  209,  238, 
263,  319,  324,  343,  346,  357, 
370,  381,  388,  437,  473,  484  n. 

Alcuin,  60. 

Al-Ghazzali,  104-08,  172,  183,  200, 
251. 

Al-Koran,  438. 

Allen,    John,    192,    205,    237. 

Alexander,  Mary,   234. 

Allies,  T.  W.,   254,   325. 

Alline,  Henry,  143  n,  164,  180,  199, 
230,  250,  286-87,  306  n,  314, 
439,  443  n. 

Amiel,  262,  381,  437;  Journal 
Intime,  131-33,  134,  162. 

d'Ancona,  A.,  cited,  103. 

Andreasi,  Osanna,  189,  196,  239, 
285  n,  286  n,  293,  357,  379,  381. 

Angela  da  Foligno,  175,  196,  250  n, 
262,  283  n,  315,  318,  349  n,  353, 
356,  357,  358,  368,  369,  376, 
426,  437,  474  n. 

Animism,  conception  of  spirits,  76 ; 
348;  Protagoras,  77;  Democ- 
ritus,  77-79;  theories  of,  420, 
430,  454;  survivals  of,  454  ff, 
465,  468  ff,  479^,  485,  486;  ex- 
amples in  mediaeval  times,  465  j7; 
in  individuals,  469  ff,  475  ff. 

Anselm,  Abbot  of  Canterbury,  Life 
of,  by  Rule,  containing  "Oratio 
meditative,"  from  the  original  bi- 
ography by  Eadmer,  61,  318. 

Anthropology,  65,  78,  393-94,  418, 
483. 

Apollinaris  of  Hierapolis,  55  n. 

Apologia,  chap,  n,  55  n;  for  par- 
ticular cases,  see  Bibliography 
of  Cases;  connotations,  53-54,  66, 
408. 

Aquinas,    Thomas,    360. 

Aram,  Eugene,  215. 


551 


Arnauld,  Angelique,  187-88,  209, 
224,  253-54,  318,  376. 

Arnobius,  55  n. 

Arnold,  Matthew,  cited,  10,  73, 
300;  Poems,  quoted,  129. 

Aristides,  55  n. 

Aristotle,   105. 

Ashbridge,  Elizabeth,  241,  285  n, 
287,  439. 

Ashman,  William,  193,  225,  237, 
259. 

Athanasius,  55  n. 

Athenagoras  of  Athens,   55  n. 

Audland,   John,   312. 

Augustin,  27,  42,  43,  48,  58  62 
63,  85,  109,  110,  112,  117,  118, 
119,  120,  138,  142  n,  145,  146, 
162,  163,  165,  175,  180,  199, 
226,  230,  247,  251,  285  n.  287, 
302,  305  n,  312,  315,  323,  344, 
348,  350,  351,  352,  381,  388, 
391,  409,  413  n,  426,  438,  439; 
Confessions,  30-37,  65,  159, 
350-51,  362,  409,  455;  first 
Christian  psychologist,  90;  on 
Unpardonable  Sin,  266;  attitude 
of  Clerics  toward,  364. 

Autobiographies.     See     Confessions. 

Autobiographical  intention,  42,  49, 
126,  325.  397. 

Babbage,    Charles,    167. 
Babylonian    confessions,    21. 
Bacon,    Advancement    of    Learning, 

cited,  5,  39. 
Bacon,  Roger,  62. 
Bagehot,      W.,      Literary      Studies, 

quoted,  402. 

Bangs,   Benjamin,   190,  204. 
Banks,   John,   191,  255,  316  n. 
Barbanson,  355,  477. 
Barclay,     Robert,     Apology,     cited, 

313. 
Ballinger,     Diseases     of     the     Ear, 

quoted,   439-40. 
Balzac,    H.    de,    cited,     133,     134; 

quoted,  138. 
Basil,     St.,     28,     85. 
Bashkirtsev,     Marie,     134;     quoted, 

49. 

Baudelaire,  Charles  de,  127. 
Bavent,  Madeleine,  219,  459  n,  463. 
Baxter,   Richard,    197,  229,   252. 


552 


INDEX 


Beaumont,   John,    167,    373,   374. 
Beecher,    H.,    193,    211,    239,    261, 

301. 

Beers,  W.,   166. 
Begbie,  Harold,  quoted,  274. 
Belief,     414  ff,     479 ;     changes     in, 

142-43,    408  ff,    455 ;     intellectual 

factors     in,      402-03;      emotional 

factors       in,       402-03,       454-55; 

Bagehot  on,   402. 

Bellarmin,  Cardinal,   181,   199,  230. 
Bergson,     H.,     82,     113;     Creative 

Evolution,  quoted,   94. 
Berkeley,   George,   103. 
Bernard,    views   on    confession,    29, 

339  n;  cited,   85. 
Besant,  Annie,   181,  230. 
Bewley,     George,     204,     235,     322, 

436  n. 

Binet-Sangle,   cited,   310,    388  n. 
Black,    William,    237,    259. 
Blair,   Robert,    181-82,    199,   230-31, 

315,    382,    386,    424,    443. 
Bianco-White,     Joseph,     187,     202, 

320.    474  n. 
Boas,  Franz,  The  Mind  of  Primitive 

Man,  quoted,  429,  472  n. 
Boccaccio,    G.,    115. 
Boehme,   Jacob,    372. 
Bogomils,  The,  423. 
Boissier,  Gaston,  quoted,  406. 
Bollandists,  cited,  362,  364. 
Bonaventura,     St.,     62,     347,     352, 

361,   369. 

Borrow,   George,  Lavengro,  265. 
Bossuet,  393. 
Boston,    T.,     178,     197,    229,    252, 

320,  321,  436  n,  443. 
Bourignon,     Antoinette,     188,     209, 

238,    292,    315,    318,    346,    358, 

376,    381,    443. 
Bownas,  Samuel,  242. 
Bradley,   H.,    189-93,   288  n,   314  n. 
Brainerd,  David,  207,  260,  298. 
Braithwaite,    Anna,    190,    204,    235, 

286  n,  297. 
Bray,    Billy,    193,    211,    244,    246  n, 

261,    297,    423. 
Bray,  Charles,  199,  231,  261. 
Brigitte  of   Sweden,    367. 
Brinton,  D.  G.,  The  Religious  Senti- 
ment, quoted,  86. 
Broca,  Paul,  92. 
Brown,     Benjamin,     127  n,     157  n, 

225,  339  n. 
Brown,    J.    MacMillan,    Maori    and 

Polynesian,  cited,   478  n. 
Browne,    Sir   Thomas,   211;    Religio 

Medici,        123-24 ;        Urn-Burial, 

quoted,   161,   337,  415. 
Browning,  E.  B.,  quoted,  38,  129. 
Browning,   Letters,   134. 
Bruno,    Giordano,   63,   104,   109. 
Brydges,    Egerton,    quoted,    285. 
Brysson,  George,  260,  321. 


Buchner,    cited,    111  n. 

Buddhistic   confessions,   22. 

Bunyan,  John,  143  n,  151,  199-200, 
216,  226,  240,  250-51,  264,  287, 
312,  319,  465. 

Burckhardt,  History  of  the  Italian 
Renaissance,  quoted,  114. 

Burton,  Robert,  Anatomy  of  Melan- 
choly, cited,  440. 

Byron,   127-28. 


Csesar,  Julius,  390. 

Caesarius  of  Heisterbach,  248, 
433  n. 

Caird,  E.,  The  Evolution  of  Re- 
ligion, quoted,  6,  8,  91,  102,  129. 

Callaway,  Religion  of  the  Amazulu, 
quoted,  373. 

Calvin,  John,  142  n,  191,  212,  261, 
311. 

Campbell,  Paul  the  Mystic,  quoted, 
308. 

Candour  in  self-study,  65,  162-66. 

Capers,     William,     192,     205,     212, 

243,  258,    317. 

Cardan,  Jerome,  31,  34,  42,  48,  64, 
100,  109,  116,  123,  124,  125, 
134,  164,  165,  167,  175,  221, 
374,  425,  438,  439;  De  Vita 
propria,  quoted,  132. 

Carlo  da  Sezze,  175,  209,  254, 
292,  319,  364  n,  370,  431,  473. 

Carre    de   Montgeron,    188-89,    211, 

244,  246  n,   295,  443. 

Carter,     Jesse     B.,     407  n,     424  n ; 

Religious  Life  in   Ancient  Rome, 

quoted,  411,  436. 
Cartwright,      Peter,      200,      224-25, 

288,   306  n,   423. 
Carvosso,   William,    192,    259. 
Casaubon,  Isaac,   124. 
Casaubon,   Meric,   221. 
Castiglionchio,   113. 
Catherine    of    Bologna,    367. 
Catherine  of  Genoa,   195,  301,   334, 

337,     338-39,     339  n,     342,     372, 

389. 

Catherine  of  Russia,   47. 
Catherine  of   Siena,    195,   238,   324, 

339  n,  352. 
Cellini,      Benvenuto,      42,     47,     64 

109,    129,    165. 

Chalkley,  Thomas,  153,  182,  231. 
Chantal,  Sainte-,   188,   215,   238,  263, 

283  n,     318,     364,     388,     474  n, 

484  n. 

Charles,   Henri,   215,   374. 
Chingwauk,     the     Algonquin,     422, 

443  n. 
Christianity,   274,   275,   347,   406  if, 

409,    430;    tendency    toward    in- 
trospection,     85  ff,      405 ;      Neo- 

Platonists,      relation     to,      88  ff ; 

modern,    survivals   in,   421,    452, 


INDEX 


553 


453,  457;  mediaeval,  427-29, 
451,  474,  476. 

Chrysostom,   St.  John,   57. 

Church,  the,  Mariolatry,  451;  atti- 
tude toward  confession,  25,  31, 
408 ;  attitude  toward  introspec- 
tion, 84-86,  121;  attitude  toward 
mysticism,  85,  359-62,  363 ; 
attitude  toward  "Unpardonable 
Sin,"  266;  treatment  of  mystics 
by,  359-62,  363. 

Churchman,  John,  203,  234,  255. 

Gibber,    Colley,    63. 

Clarke,   J.  F.,   182. 

Cloag,   cited,   309,   310. 

Codrington,  The  Melanesians,  cited, 
425  n,  433. 

Cohn,   Rev.  J.   R.,   cited,   308. 

Coleridge,   S.  T.,  336. 

Collins,    Elizabeth,    203. 

Comte,  Auguste,  quoted,  81,  286, 
400 ;  attitude  toward  psychology, 
81-82,  415,  416. 

Conduct,  religion  and,  404,  407, 
412,  473-76. 

Confessant,  the,  use  of  word,  39; 
and  mystic,  332,  398;  data  of, 
420  ff,  443,  457,  463,  466,  483. 

Confessions,  chap.  II,  auricular,  20- 
29,  397,  408;  in  ancient  reli- 
gions, 21-24;  Lysander,  case  of, 
23 ;  in  early  Christian  Church, 
25,  41;  early  meaning,  28; 
libelli,  28;  Aboard  on,  29,  42; 
Bernard,  views  of,  29;  Ramon  de 
Penafort,  views  of,  31;  impulse 
toward,  40-49 ;  criminal,  48, 
214/7;  witchcraft,  216  ff,  462  ff. 

Conran,  John,   234,   386,  424. 

Contagion,  group,  146-47,  223-26, 
367,  456,  467,  470-71. 

Conversion,  246,  248,  249,  273  ff, 
468 ;  preexisting  immortality,  50- 
52,  151,  315;  depression  preced- 
ing, 106,  250-64,  269,  280.?;  in 
meeting,  152-53,  297,  300,  313; 
mystical  phenomena  during,  152, 
247,  287  ff,  375  ff;  illness  preced- 
ing, 210/7;  theories  concerning, 
246-47;  273  ff,  392;  personality 
in,  279.?,  483-85;  suggestion  in, 
281-86,  287,  293,  299,  376/7; 
suggestibility  in  adolescence  af- 
fecting, 282-84;  methods  of,  284, 
285,  286  ff;  forms  of  suggestion 
in,  285-86,  287,  293;  Paul's, 
202-11,  385,  386;  non-mystical, 
311  ff;  reaction  from,  313, 
3142f,  323  ff,  326-327,  354/7, 
378,  468/7;  in  prison,  371;  non- 
religious,  373-74. 

Conybeare  and  Howson,  cited,   309. 

Conybeare,  F.  C.,  Myth,  Morals,  and 
Magic,  cited,  25  n. 


Corpus  Apologetarum  Christian- 
orum,  cited,  65,  397,  409. 

Covenanters  with  God,  321-23,  435, 
436. 

Crawley,  A.  E.,   cited,   441. 

Criminal    confessions,  48. 

Criminals,  tendency  toward  mysti- 
cism, 216. 

Crisp,   Stephen,  200,  231,  251,  312. 

Croker,    John,    190,    321. 

Crook,  John,  213,  216,  231,  251, 
285  n,  288,  388,  465. 

Crowley,  Ann,  235. 

Cusanus,    Nicholas,    109. 

Cutten,  G.  B.,  The  Psychological 
Phenomena  of  Christianity  cited, 
5,  226,  275. 

Cyril  of  Alexandria,   55  n. 

D'AgrMa,  Maria.  See  d'Agreda, 
Maria. 

Dante,  Letter  to  Can  Grande,  114, 
115.  116,  329,  348,  349,  426, 
427;  Inferno,  267,  268,  487; 
Paradiso,  293  n. 

Davenport,  F.  M.,  Primitive  Traits 
in  Religious  Revival,  cited, 
421  n,  451  n,  463  n,  471  n. 

David,   Christian,   208,   262,    317. 

Davies,    Richard,    182,    212,    242. 

Davy,  Sir  Humphry,  1778-1829, 
cited,  168. 

Day-books.     See    Confessions. 

Delacroix,  E.,  cited,  12,  355-56; 
quoted,  12,  172,  340  n,  342,  343, 
366. 

Deleloe,  Jeanne  de  St.,  178,  197-98, 
224,  230,  253,  266,  295-96,  318, 
319,  376,  442,  474. 

Democritus,    77-79. 

Demoniacal  possession,  374,  432, 
468;  at  Yssel,  217-18;  at 
Cambrai,  218-19;  at  London, 
219,  220,  221,  295,  359,  433, 
486;  at  Louviers,  219,  359,  433, 
486;  at  Placido,  359;  at  Salem, 
Mass.,  433-34;  at  Kirtland, 
Ohio,  434-35,  457,  463;  in  Scot- 
land, 434;  in  Switzerland,  435, 
457;  in  China,  435;  in  Virginia, 
435;  spiritualism,  457. 

Demons,  61,  220-21,  222,  378-79, 
429  ff,  442-44,  484. 

Depression,  280,  455,  467,  468; 
duration  of,  250  ff;  character  of, 
250,  269;  during  reaction  and 
relapse  from  conversion,  323/7, 
326-27,  354/7,  484. 

De  Quincey,  Thomas,  44,  64;  cited, 
47  n,  164,  166. 

Descartes,  Rene",  82,  138,  Discours 
de  la  Mtthode  and  Meditations, 
104,  107/7. 

Dewey,  Orville,   193,  207,  243-44. 

Diaries.     See  Confessions. 


554 


INDEX 


Dill,      S.,     Roman     Society,     cited, 

407  n. 

Dickinson,   James,   190. 
Dickinson,    Peard,    192,    206,    237, 

257. 

Dion,  Cassius,  373. 
Dionysius,     the    Areopagite,     337  n, 

347,   348,    352,   369. 
Documents,     chap.     IV,     397,     410, 

455;    mystical,    362  ff,   369. 
Dods,      Marcus,      Forerunners      of 

Dante,  cited,   61  n,   367  n. 
Dostoievski,  crime    and   punishment, 

43. 
Doutte,  E.,  Magie  et  Religion  dans 

I'Afrique  du  Nord,  422  n,  425  n, 

430,  431,  433,  455. 
Dow,     Lorenzo,     154  n,     205,     236, 

257,  301. 

Dreams,  301,  430. 
Duchesne,    Pere,    Histoire   Ancienne 

de  I'Eglise,   cited,   26  n,    65  n. 
Dudley,    Mary,     191,    204-05,    235, 

256. 
Dunton,  John,   182,   212. 

Eberin,  Margaret,   196,  368,  377. 
Ecstasy,   330,  343,  344,  349,  350  tf, 

356.  373,      379,      386,      424-29, 
467;  Lea  on,  359. 

Edmundson,    William,   251. 

Education,    177  ff,  194. 

Edwards,  Jonathan,  210,  239,  262, 
286  n,  294,  314,  315,  377; 
Narrative  of  Surprising  Con- 
versions, quoted,  156,  223,  386, 
471-72. 

Ego,  the,  86,  91,  99-100,  277,  356, 
358,  387,  477;  in  Job,  399. 

Egyptian  confessions,  21. 

Eliot,    George,    Romola,   quoted,    31. 

Eliphaz   the   Temanite,    384-85. 

Elizabeth  of  Schonau,  62,  367. 

Ellis,  A.  B.,  The  Ewe-speaking 
Peoples  of  the  Gold  Coast,  cited, 
422  n,  43  In,  459  n. 

Ellwood,    Thomas,    153. 

Emmerich,  A.  C.,  189,  197,  239, 
252,  295,  315,  319,  343,  346, 

357,  378,    381,    437,   474. 
Emerson,    Ralph   Waldo,    cited,    10, 

122,     130-31,    333;     quoted,     49, 

481. 

Eneas  Sylvius,  121. 
Ephraim  Syrus,  cited,  59,   85,   291. 
Epictetus,  Discourses,  quoted,  87. 
Epidemics,      hysterical,     219,     359, 

432-35;   467;   of  witchcraft,   219, 

457  tf,   460  If,  486;   of  the  jerks, 

225,   434. 

Equitius,   St.,  433  n. 
Eudes,  John,   188,   230. 
Eusebius   of   Csesarea,    55  n. 
Evans,   William,   190,   212,   242 
Evidence,  324,  329,  354,  383. 


Exomologesis,  rite  of,  25;  influence 

toward  introspection,  86. 
Exorcism,    196,    220,    221,    432-35, 

454.     See  Demoniacal  possession. 

Faith,  58,  65,  171. 

Fasting,  373,  375,  421-24;  Cather- 
ine of  Genoa,  334,  338-39,  342. 

Favre,  Peter,  189,  197,  224,  239, 
262,  320,  431,  445  n,  473. 

Ferrero,  Guglielmo,  Characters  and 
Events  in  Roman  History, 
quoted,  6. 

Fery,   Jeanne,   218-19,   435. 

Fetich,  402,  445,  472,  473;  fetich- 
worship,  402. 

Fichte,  J.  G.,  cited,  99,  111-12. 

Fielding,  Henry,   189,   207-08. 

Finney,  O.  G.,  182,  211,  251, 
286  n,  288,  306  n,  423. 

Fleay,   J.   G.,    167  n,   294  n. 

Flechere,  John  de  la,  205,   259. 

Fletcher,  Alice  H.,  Handbook  of 
American  Indians,  cited  373  n, 
421  n. 

Fletcher,     Mary,     154  n,     206,     237, 

256,  285  n,    299,    467. 
Flight,    mystical,    445. 
Follows,    Ruth,    190. 

Fontaine,  James  de  la,   190,  230. 

Foscolo,   Ugo,    127. 

Fothergill,     John,     190,     204,     235, 

256. 
Fox,     George,     143  n,     145,     150  ff, 

158,     165,    172,     177,    182,    191, 

213,    231,     247,     251,     288,    312, 

319,  323,  342,  438,  443. 
France,      Anatole,      Jeanne      d'Arc, 

cited,    248. 

Francis   of  Assisi,    St.,    115,    339  n. 
Franchise   Romaine,    367. 
Francke,    A.   H.,    192,    259. 
Fraser,   James,   of   Brae,    182,    200, 

241,  316,   319. 
Frazer,    J.    G.,    The   Golden   Bough, 

cited,     65,     418  n,     441,     442  n, 

465  ;    quoted,    478  n. 
Friends.     See  Quakers. 
Froude,  R.  H.,   162,  210. 
Furz,    John,     193,    205,    237,    258, 

285  n,    299. 
Fustel      de      Coulanges,      La     Cite 

Antique,   cited,    77  n. 

Galton,   Francis,   quoted,    282. 
Gardner,    Edmund,    Dante    and   the 

Mystics,    quoted,     333-34;     cited, 

97  n,  369. 
Gardiner,  Colonel,   254,  285  n,  286, 

291,  306  n,  386,  424  n. 
Garretson,     Freeborn,     154  n,     192, 

257,  285  n,     300. 

Gates,  R.,  207,  243,  259,  298. 
Genius,    143-44 ;    relation   to   mysti- 
cism, 341-46,  356,  381. 


INDEX 


555 


Gerard-Gailly,  E.,  Bussy-Rdbutin, 
quoted,  365. 

Gerson,    John,    360. 

Gertrude  of  Eisleben,  175,  198, 
224,  244,  252,  286  n,  289-90, 
315,  353,  357,  367,  414,  428, 

432,  474  n. 

Ghazzali,  A1-,  104-08,  172,    183,  200, 

251. 
Giuliani,  Veronique,   196,  295,  377, 

444. 

Giusti,    G.,    127. 
Glaber,      Raoul,      61,     262,     286  n, 

429  n,  433,  442. 
Goethe,  W.  von,  34,  465. 
Gomperz,    Th.,    quoted,    331;    cited, 

54  n,    59  n,    77  n,    81  n. 
Gordon,   Alexander,    191,   260,   467. 
Gorres,   Mystique  Divine,  Naturelle, 

et  Diabolique,  quoted,   30;   cited, 

218,  219,  332,  340,  426  n,  432  n, 

444,  463  n. 
Gosse,    Edmund;    Father    and    Son, 

183,  224,  231-32,  445  n. 
Gotteschalchus,   60. 
Gottesfreunde,    145. 
Gough,   James,    183,    203,   214. 
Gough,  John  B.,   51,   323. 
Grasset,   E.,    168,   340  n,    388  n. 
Gratry,  Father  A.,  263  n. 
Gratton,     John,     152  n,     191,     204, 

235.  256,  300,  370,  443. 
Green,   Ashbel,    191,   207,    317. 
Greek  confessions,  23. 
Gregory  the  Great,  cited,  85,  433  n. 
Gregory    of    Nyssa,    28. 
Gregorovius,   History  of  the  Middle 

Ages,  cited,   450  n. 
Grellet,    Stephen,    191,    235,    285   n, 

297. 
Grey,  Maxwell,  The  Silence  of  Dean 

Maitland,  cited,  43  n. 
Griffith,  John,  235,  255. 
Grote,  History  of  Greece,  cited, 

81  n. 
Group,  contagion,  146-47,  367,  423, 

470-71. 
Groups,     10,     144-47  ff,     171,     172, 

364-65,    366;    Gottesfreunde,    144, 

367;   Methodists,   145,  247;  Mor- 
mons,   145;    Quakers,    145,    150, 

247;  Port- Royalists,  145;  Pietists, 

145. 
Guerin,    Eugenie   and    Maurice   de, 

Journals  of,  134. 
Guibert  de  Nogent,  61,  175,  183-84, 

224,    232,    288,    344  n,    376,    391, 

433.  435,    474. 

Gummere,   Amelia   M.,   The   Quaker, 

cited,     152  n. 
Gummere,    Francis    B.,    Democracy 

and  Poetry,  quoted,  398. 
Gurneys    of    Earlham,    the,     134-36, 

159,  178,  211,  230. 


Guyon,  Jeanne  de  La-Mothe,  145, 
175,  184,  200,  222,  232,  250  n, 
251,  263,  288,  318,  343,  363, 
373,  376,  380,  391,  414,  429  n, 
437,  442,  474  n,  474. 

Haddon,     Thomas,     The     Papuans, 

cited,   425  n. 

Hagger,   Mary,   190,   204,  235,   298. 
Haime,  John,  154,  154  n,  206,  243, 

256,    299,    320. 

Hale,  Sir  Matthew,  216,221,  486  n. 
Hall,      G.      Stanley,      Adolescence, 

quoted,    282. 
Halhead,    Myles,    256,    263  n     298, 

467. 

Hallam,  cited,  450  n,  451,  474. 
Haliburton,  Thomas,  172,  179,  198 

240,     246  n,     252-53,     319      322. 

436  n. 

Hall,  David,  190,  203,  213    465 
Hall,  Joseph,   179,   198,  230. 
Hallucinations,    197,   352  ff,  374-75 

461,     467,     485;     auditory,     154, 

285,   286,   296,   443;   visual,    154, 

222,    286,    296,    422,    443,    454. 
Hamilton,       Alexander,       'Reynolds 

Pamphlet,  quoted,  64 
Hanby,   Thomas,   192. 
Hanson,   Thomas,   192,   259,   299 
Hare,    A.   J.    C.,    184,   232. 
Harnack.   cited,    309. 
Harrison,    Frederic,    184,    211 
Hartley,    103. 
Hartmann,    416  n. 
Haslett,  William,   191,   260. 
Havet,   Ernest,  Le  Christianisme  et 

ses  Origines,  cited,  7,  75  n,  406  n. 
Hawthorne,    Nathaniel,    The   Scarlet 

Letter,     cited,     43;     The    Marble 

Fcvun,  quoted,   47. 
Haydon,   B.   R.,   166. 
Hayes,  Alice,  200,  380. 
Health,  194  #,  279,  390,  465;  good 

135,    195,    211  ff;   bad,    134,    195 

196  ff;  abnormal,   212. 
Hearn,   L.,   cited,   442. 
Heaven,   352,   367,   428,   430,   454. 
Hebrew  confessions,  24. 
Hell,  352,  367,  428,  429-30,  454. 
Herbart,   97. 

Herbert   of   Cherbury,    374. 
Heredity,  177  ff,  194,  465. 
Hermannus,    Abbot,    175. 
Hermas,   Shepherd  of,   58. 
Hesse,     Les    Criminels    peints    par 

eux-memes,  cited,   216. 
Heywood,    Oliver,     191,     212,    243, 

260. 

Hibbard,  B.,  192,  257,  299,  317. 
Hibbert,   Philosophy  of  Apparitions, 

cited,    166. 
Hildegarde   of   Bingen,    62,    175-76, 

187,     198,    224,    230,    320,    346, 

367,    375-76,   426. 


556 


INDEX 


Hierocles,     75  n. 

Hirsch,   W.,    Genius   and  Degenera- 
tion, quoted,   40,   390. 
Hoag,  Joseph,  152  n,  190,  200,  232, 

252.    265,    285  n,    289,    306,    319, 

380,    439,    443. 

Hoffding,    on   psychology,    275. 
Hopkins,    Samuel,    192,    211,    260, 

317. 

Hopper,  Christopher,  193,  206,  225. 
Hose  and  McDougall,  Pagan  Tribes 

of    Borneo,    cited,    431  n,    432  n, 

437  n. 
Hoskins,  Jane,  190,  204,  242,  256, 

285  n,    298,    306  n,    474  n. 
Howgill,    Francis,     153,    200,    232, 

252. 
Hudson-Taylor,     245,     285  n,     293, 

321. 
Hiigel,  F.  von,  332,  333,   334,   336, 

338.   346,  372,   389. 
Hull.  Henry,   190,   204,   235. 
Hume,      David,      103,      111,      418; 

quoted,    415. 
Hunter.   William,    236,    257. 

lamblichus,  62,  89,  405. 

Individualism,  rise  of,  398  #,  410, 
411  ff;  the  Church  and,  362-63. 

Introspection,  chap,  ill,  52;  defini- 
tion, 71;  attitudes  toward,  72-73; 
Plato,  74-75,  86;  Socrates,  74; 
(Sophists,  77;  relation  to  meta- 
physics, 82-84,  111;  in  philos- 
ophy, 82,  94,  97-98,  103  ff, 
lllff;  in  religion,  83-86,  104.?, 
121,  402-03;  attitude  of  Church 
toward,  84-86,  121;  Christianity, 
tendency  of,  toward,  85  ff,  397; 
Marcus  Aurelius,  87;  Epictetus, 
87;  Rousseau,  87,  111,  124-26; 
'Seneca,  87;  Neo-Platonists,  88- 
90,  130,  402,  405,  413;  Plotinus, 
88;  Schopenhauer,  91,  112;  as  a 
factor  in  psychology,  93,  97  ff ; 
William  James,  attitude  of,  to- 
ward, in  psychology,  93,  100; 
Kant,  97,  111;  Fichte,  99,  111- 
12;  Cardan,  100,  109;  in  sci- 
ence. 103,  113,  129,  134;  intro- 
spective type  in  literature,  101 ;  Al- 
Ghazzali,  104-08;  Descartes,  104, 
107  ff;  relation  of,  to  mysticism, 
106,  114,  215;  Montaigne,  109, 
122-23;  Schelling,  112;  Augus- 
tin,  112,  117,  "118,  119,  120, 
351;  Nietzsche,  113;  minor  ex- 
amples, 113,  134;  Dante,  114, 
115,  116;  Petrarch,  115-20; 
Eneas  Sylvius,  121 ;  Browne, 
123-24;  Byron,  127-28;  Shelley, 
128-29;  Emerson,  130-31;  Amiel, 
131-33;  Gurneys,  the,  134-36; 
Wilde,  136-38;  Job,  400-02;  See 
Self -study;  and  Health,  134-35. 


Intoxication.    423,    424. 
Ireland.   W.  H..   214. 
Islamic    confessions,    22. 
Ivan  the  Terrible,  47. 

Jackson,  William,  214,  257,  300. 
Jaco,    Peter,    155,    192,    205,    236, 

257,    300,    443. 
Jaffray,  Alexander,    204,   242. 
James,  Epistle  of,  407. 
James,  J.  A.,  192,  243,  317. 
James.   William,   61,   63,   94  n,   100, 

247,    275,    276,    277,    332,    340, 

347,    394;    quoted,    44,    93,    134, 

337.   464,   474,   480. 
Janet,   Pierre,   The  Mental  State  of 

Hystericals,      283,      284,      340  n, 

388  n. 

Jarratt,  Devereux,  190,  244. 
Jastrow,   Morris,    The   Liver   as  the 

Seat  of  the  Soul,  cited,  91  n;  Re- 
ligion of  Babylonia  and  Assyria, 

cited,    21  n. 
Jeanne,  des  Anges,  Mere,  187,  210, 

220-21,   222,   223,   262,   373,   374, 

377,   381,   388,   429  n,   433,   435, 

442. 

Jefferis,    Edith,     204,    234. 
Jerome,    St.,  55  n,    56,    65,    85,    253, 

291,   294,   318,   321,    344  n,    376; 

quoted,    193-94,    198,   423,   476  n. 
Jevons,    Introduction    to    the   Study 

of  Religion*    cited,    8,    400. 
Job,    Book    of,    399-400,    401,    435. 

See  Eliphaz  the  Temanite. 
John   of   Avila,    360,    363,    476. 
John  of  the  Cross,  St.,  355-59,  363, 

427. 
John    of    Fidanza.     See    St.    Bona- 

ventura,    62. 
John  of  Salisbury,  189 ;  Metalogicus, 

61. 

Joly,    Henri,    365. 
Jones,   Peter,    225,   259. 
Jones,    Rufus,    332  n;    quoted,    334, 

336,    341. 

Jordan,  Richard,  190,  242,  256. 
Jouffroy,  Th.,  240  n. 
Journals.     See    Confessions. 
Joyce,    Matthias,    151  n,    155,    193, 

214.   237,   259,    300. 
Juliana  of  Norwich,  175,  209,  254, 

291-92,   367,   369,   437,   443. 
Justin       Martyr,        Dialogue     with 

Trypho,  55  n,  57,  58,  187. 

Kant,  Immanuel,  attitude  toward 
psychology,  97;  Critique,  111. 

Keller,  Helen,  45,   190,  212,  245. 

a   Kempis,   Thomas,    175,    312,    358. 

Kidd,  Dudley,  The  Essential  Kaffir, 
cited,  425  n. 

Kierkegaard,   Soren,   113  n. 

Kimball,  H.  C.,  435. 

Kirk,  E.  N.,  225,  243,  260,  317. 


INDEX 


557 


Klunzinger,     Upper     Egypt,     cited, 

422  n. 
Knapp,  Jacob,   207,   239,    261,   297, 

318. 

Knight,  Newell,  434. 
Kotzebue,  A.  V.,  126. 
Krug,  William,  113  n. 

Lacenaire,    215,    263  n. 

Lackington,  James,  etc.,  159,  184, 
212,  304,  316,  319. 

Lactantius,    55  n. 

Lafarge,  Marie,  215,  216. 

Lang,  Andrew,  The  Making  of  Re- 
ligion, quoted,  465. 

Lathrop,  Joseph,  190,  210,  245, 
246  n,  322. 

Lavater,    126. 

Law,   method  of  study  in,    12-13. 

Law,  Thomas,  Serious  Call,  312. 

Laythe,  Thomas,  213,  370,  467. 

Lea,  H.  C.,  25,  27,  28,  357,  358, 
359,  360,  361,  375,  433  n,  460, 
461,  462;  cited,  217,  412;  His- 
tory of  Auricular  Confession,  26, 
38,  40. 

LeBon,  Gustave,  La  Foule,  cited, 
144,  226,  246. 

Lecky,  History  of  European  Morals, 
cited,  344  n,  433,  450  n. 

Lee,   Thomas,   236,   257,   300,   324. 

Legue  and  La  Tourette,  La  Pos- 
session de  la  Msre  Jeanne,  cited, 
220. 

Lehmann,    E.,    332  n,    quoted,    343. 

Leibnitz,     110. 

Le  Mans,  Robert  of,  28. 

Leuba,   Dr.,   214  n. 

Lewis,   William,    191,    203,   242. 

Libelli,    28. 

Liebermann,  F.,  M.P.,   188,  254. 

Linn,    cited,    371  n,    386  n. 

Linsley,  H.,  143  n,  214,  242,  261, 
299,  324,  414,  443,  484  n. 

Literary,    influences,    64. 

Livingstone,  John,  164  n,  212,  241, 
256,  316. 

Livingstone,    Patrick,    204,    234. 

Lobb,  Theophilus,  Dr.,  322,  436  n, 
443. 

Locke,  John,  103,   111. 

Lomenie,  de  Brienne,  185,  212, 
319. 

Lorde,   Andre,  de,   166,  214. 

Lprenzino   de   Medici,    63. 

Lowengard,  Paul,  143  n,  188,  209, 
238,  304,  325. 

Loyola,  St.  Ignatius,  187,  198-99, 
226,  240,  253,  286,  286  n,  290, 
305  n,  312,  342,  353,  359,  365, 
372,  373,  388,  391,  423,  437, 
445  n;  quoted,  29. 

Lucas,  Margaret,  191,  203,  265, 
297,  324,  380. 

Luis  of  Granada,  358. 


Lumby,   Dr.,   cited,   309. 

Lutfullah,    200,    201,    232. 

Luther,  Martin,  143  n,  158,  172, 
316,  342,  387,  433,  487;  objec- 
tion to  confession,  39  n ;  quoted, 
164,  251,  285-86,  288,  294  n, 
314,  318,  348;  attitude  toward 
apparitions,  221-23,  253. 

Lysander.     See   Confessions. 

McAuley,     Jerry,     193,     207,     244, 

246  n,    261,    285  n,    297,    320. 
McGiffert,    309,    310. 
Macaulay,  Thomas  B.,  quoted,  50. 
Macready,    William    C.,    201. 
Mack,    Solomon,    203,    251. 
Maeterlinck,      M.,     L'Oiseau     Bleu, 

cited,     400. 

Magdalena  de  la  Cruz,  217. 
Magdalena     de     la     Palude,     219, 

463  n. 

Magic,    412,    454,    462  ff. 
Maimon,     Solomon,    47  n. 
Manu,   Laws  of,   7,   22 ;   quoted,   73. 
Maine     de     Biran,     100,     131;     his 

psychological    journal,    103. 
Marcus    Aurelius,    87,    405. 
Maria     Maddalena     de'     Pazzi,     29, 

339  n. 
Marie   de   L'Incarnation,    211,    238 

254,  315,  319,  324,  357,  364  n. 
Marie  de  St.  Sacrement,  219,  435. 
Marie  de  Sains,  217-18,  222,  374, 

459  n. 

Maris,  Ann,    190. 
Marks,  David,   236,   298,   317. 
Marsay,    M.    de,    187,    208-09,    324, 

376,    381. 

Marsden,  Joshua,   192,   206,   237. 
Marsh,    James,    207. 
Marshall,    Charles,    190,    234,    256, 

320,    324. 

Martineau,  Harriet,  134. 
Martyn,    Henry,    190,    244. 
Mary  of  the  Angels,   188,   196,   239, 

262,    315,    378,    382,    432. 
Mary    of    the    Divine    Heart,     315, 

318,    357,    379. 
Mason,  John,   192,   259. 
Mather,  Alexander,   192,   324. 
Mather,    Cotton,    192. 
Matthew,    St.,    quoted,    404. 
Matthew,    Sir    Tobie,    187,    244. 
Maudsley,  Henry,  437;  quoted,  264. 
Mechtildis,    Ste.,   52,   175,   210,   224, 

296,    352,   367,    369,    414. 
Medical-materialists,    195,   283,    310, 

340,     387-90. 
Melito  of    Sardis,   55  n. 
Melville,  James,  191,  238. 
Memory,       276,       424  #;       mystical 

memory,    349,    350,    426  ff;  views 

of    the     St.    Victors    on,     349-50, 

427;   Paul,  426;   Dante  on,  427; 


558 


INDEX 


views  of  John  of  the  Cross  on, 
427;  Teresa's  views  on,  427;  ves- 
tigiary,  459^;  in  witchcraft, 
459  ff,  463. 

Menzies,  Allan,  History  of  Religion, 
cited,  22  n,  23  n;  quoted,  412, 
413,  416. 

Merime'e,  Prosper,  134,   168. 

Merswin,  Rulman,  210,  244,  253, 
295,  318,  368,  377. 

Metaphysics,  introspective  charac- 
ter, Greek,  79-80,  82-84,  100, 
111;  in  mystical  writings,  333. 

Methodists,  145,  148-50,  153-56, 
212,  320,  325. 

Meyer,  Eduard,  History  of  An- 
tiquity, 406  n. 

Meyer,    quoted,    309. 

Meysenbug,  Malwida  von,  189,  208, 
239. 

Michelet,  176,  220,  457  n,  461  n, 
463  n. 

Middle  Ages,  352,  366,  412,  428, 
436,  442,  450-452,  462,  466, 
474,  476 ;  imagination  during, 
286,  368,  459;  women  during, 
315. 

Mill,  J.  S.,  134,  165,  276;  quoted, 
72. 

Milman,  quoted,  329,  330,  334, 
345,  476;  cited,  358  n. 

Minucius,     Felix,     55  n. 

Miracles,   371,   433. 

Misinterpreted  observation,  372-73, 
380,  382,  386-87,  409,  440,  471. 

Mitchell,  Thomas,  236,  257,  316. 

Modern  Psychology.  See  Psychol- 
ogy. 

Monk  of  Evesham,  214,  367. 

Montaigne,  36,    109,   122-23,   134. 

Montesquieu,   L'Esprit   des  Lois,   5. 

Moody,   Granyille,   193,   239,   301. 

Moody,  William  Vaughn,  Poems, 
472. 

More,  Gertrude,  143  n,  187,  211, 
224,  244,  262-63,  295,  320,  376- 
77. 

More,  Dr.  Henry,  185,  232,  252. 

Morley,  John,  cited,  52,  128; 
quoted,  125,  482. 

Mormons,  145,  156-59,  457,  463, 
473. 

Miiller,  George,  51,  164,  165,  191, 
207,  214,  242,  250,  305  n,  324. 

Miiller,  F.  Max,  Science  of  Thought, 
cited,  45  n. 

Murlin,  John,    151  n,   243. 

Murray,  Gilbert,  Four  Stages  of 
Greek  Religion,  478  n. 

Murray,   John,    191-92,    211,    260. 

Musset,    Alfred    de,    127. 

Mysticism,  chap.  VHI,  172,  183-84, 
284,  314,  479;  Neo-Platonism, 


62;  mystical  way,  the,  62,  95, 
96,  200,  296,  337,  352,  355  ff, 
372;  attitude  of  Church  toward, 
85,  359-62,  363;  self-study  and, 
88,  106,  114,  351,  413;  and 
health,  195,  200,  208,  345,  346, 
361,  390;  medical-materialists, 
195,  283-84,  340,  387  #;  mys- 
tical phenomena  during  conver- 
sion, etc.,  202,  247,  286-301, 
352,  437,  442;  and  crime,  216  tf; 
modern  theories  of,  332  ff  ; 
340^;  352;  relation  of  genius 
toward,  341-46,  356  ;  egotism  and, 
344,  356-58,  473-77,  486;  origin 
of  divine  union,  346  #,  353,  355; 
as  a  process,  354,  366,  375,  380, 
390-92,  469^7;  revelations, 
367^,  428  ff  ;  compared  with, 
savage  phenomena,  373;  paucity 
of  truths  discovered,  381,  389- 
90;  mystical  flight,  445.  See 
Memory. 

Nansen,     F.,     Eskimo     Life,     cited, 

425  n,    431,    441. 
Naylor,  James,  263  n,  298. 
Neale,   Samuel,    190,  204,   235,   255, 

297,    317,    320,    322,    380. 
Neill,  William,   207,   237. 
Nelson,  John,  143  n,  154,  192,  206, 

237,    256,    320. 
Neo-Platonists,      130;      relation     of 

mysticism     to,     62;     introspective 

tendency,    88-90,    401,    405;    dis- 

appearance    before     Christianity, 

405  ;       anti-Christian       influence, 

495. 
Nevius,  Demon  Possession  in  China, 

cited,    435,    457  n. 
Newman,      Francis,       230,      250  n, 

474  n. 
Newman,     J.     H.,     63,     211,     414; 

Apologia   pro   vita   sua,    53,    163, 

179,    230,    253,    325. 
Newton,     John     (1725-1807),       185, 

241,    246  n,    319,    324. 
Newton,  Thomas,  65. 
Nicolai,    166-67. 
Nietzsche,  Friedrich,  113,  179,  214, 

245. 
Nitschman,    David,    208,    262,    301, 

314,    320. 

Norm,   the,    176,    243,    249. 
Notestein,     W.,    History    of    Witch- 


Nov 


craft,  cited,   459  n,   460  n. 
alis,  113. 


Obermann,   127,   134,  210. 

Olier,  Jean  Jacques,  188,  238,  319, 

324. 
Olivers,    Thomas,    151  n,    205,    242- 

43,   257,   300,    324. 


INDEX 


559 


Origen,  cited,   25,  26,   85,  433  n. 

Othloh  of  St.  Emmeran,  29,  179, 
199,  238,  286  n,  290,  306  n,  319, 
344  n,  376,  380,  424  n,  433,  442. 

Oxley,  Joseph,   204,   242,  255. 

Ozanam,    A.   P.,    188,    254. 

Pamphilus,    55  n. 

Parentage,    177  ff,   194. 

Pascal,    cited,    86,    181,    214,    253, 

274,    286  n,    293,   443  n,    445. 
Pater,    Walter,    Marine    the    Epicu- 
rean, cited,  75. 
Paton,    J.   G.,    212. 
Patrick,     St.,     60,     185,     211,     232, 

252,    285  n,    289. 
Patrick,   Symon,    185,    201,   233. 
Pattison,   Mark,    185,   201. 
Paul,     St.,     144  n,     178,    200,     209, 
247,    285  n,    325,    387,    388,   406, 
407,    408,    426;    his    conversion, 
302-11,    339,   342,   385-86. 
Paul  of  Cordova,   60. 
Paulinus  Pellaeus,  185,  201. 
Pawson,  John,    192,  225,   242,  257, 

300. 
Payne,    Thomas,    154  n,    192,    214, 

236,   299. 

Pearson,  Jane,  233. 
Pennyman,   John,    213,    256. 
Pentateuch,   413. 
Pepys,    Samuel,    47. 
Perpetuus  of  Tours,  60. 
Perrot,   John,    213. 
Perrot,   Nicholas,   373  n,   421  n. 
Personality,     276^,     284,     483-84; 
dual,     83-84;     theories     of,     276, 
277;  in  conversion,  277,  279-281, 
284,     392;     survivals    in,     462^, 
469. 

Peter  of  Alcantara,  475. 
Peter    Damiani,   60. 
Petersen,  Gerlac,  367. 
Petrarca,   Francesco,   quoted,   36-38, 

115-20. 

Pfleiderer,     cited,  308,  416  n. 
Phillips,    Catherine,    203,    234,    254- 

55,    264. 
Philo-Judseus,     quoted,     59;     cited, 

374. 

Pietists,   145. 
Piety,  chap,  vi,  early,  229-40,  465; 

late,    240-45. 
Pike,  Joseph,   235,   321. 
Pittar,     Fanny,      188,      210,      238, 

474  n. 

Plato,  cited,  74-75,  86. 
Plotinus,   Enneads  of,    62,   88,   347, 

348,  352,   405,  437. 
Plumer,   William,   210,   240,   261. 
Plutarch,    23. 

Pomponazzi,   Pietro,   54,   109. 
Pope,   Alexander,   quoted,   165. 


Pordage,   John,   Dr.,   167,   373. 

Porphyry,  letter  to  Anebo,  59,  89, 
405. 

Port-Royalists,  145,  175;  St.  Cyran, 
35. 

Pratt,  C.,  Psychology  of  Religious 
Belief,  249,  278. 

Pratt,   Orson,   225. 

Pratt,  P.  P.,   157  n,  225. 

Prickard,  John,  192,  205,  242,  300, 
324. 

Prince,  Morton,  Symposium  on  the 
Subconscious,  quoted,  99. 

Pringle,  Walter,  233. 

Pritchard,   John,   151  n,   205,   237. 

Proclus,    cited,    89,    130. 

Prosper   of   Aquitaine,    60. 

Protagoras,   77,   80,   134. 

Psalmanazar,    George,    214. 

Psychology,  65,  275,  456;  ancient, 
65;  Comte's  attitude  toward,  81- 
82,  97;  modern  experimental,  82, 
92,  95,  276,  277;  Kant's  atti- 
tude, 97;  introspective  methods 
in,  111;  "B"  region  in,  463-64, 
468,  472. 

Pythagoras,  on  self-examination,  75. 

Quadratus,   55  n. 

Quakers,   134-35,   145,   150-53,   159, 

203,    212,    249,    323,    325,    366; 

mysticism    in,    380,    437. 
Questionnaire,  the,  disapproved,  39, 

149,    275,    394,    397. 

Ramon  de  Penafort,  views  on  con- 
fession, 31. 

Rankin,  Thomas,  192,  205,  243, 
258. 

Ratcliff,  Mildred,  191,  203-04,  235, 
297. 

Ratisbonne,  Alphonse  de,  188,  209, 
254,  286  n,  295,  304,  325,  445  n, 
473. 

Reid,    103. 

Reinach,  S.,  Orpheus,  cited,  28, 
363  n,  416. 

Religion,  414  #,  416^,  479  ff, 
4S3./7;  mass,  7,  410;  individual, 
7,  411;  data  for  study,  14;  re- 
lation of,  to>  introspection,  83-86, 
121,  462-63;  religious  instinct, 
391-94,  415-16,  481,  485  ff  ;  rise 
of  subjective,  400  ff ;  rise  of  re- 
ligious sentiment,  400^,  410  ff, 
416,  454;  and  philosophy,  406  If; 
453;  national,  410,  411,  413 /, 
454  tf. 

Renan,  Ernest,  58,  185-86,  201, 
303,  305-06,  307,  310,  371,  386, 
407,  414;  quoted,  201,  471,  485. 

Rendall,   quoted,    308. 

Revelations,    362-69,    428  ff. 


560 


INDEX 


Revivals,     religious,      223,      224-26, 

451,    456,    4:57  ff,   463,    465,    466- 

68,    470-72,   473-77,    479-85. 
Rhodes,    Benjamin,    192,    258. 
Ribot,    Th.,    cited,    340  n. 
Rice,    Luther,    207,    236,    260,    298, 

322. 

Richardson,  John,  190,  204. 
Richelieu,   390. 
Richter,     Jean-Paul,     126;     quoted, 

94. 

Rigge,  Ambrose,   235. 
Riley,   The  Founder  of  Mormonism, 

cited,    156  n,    157  n,    371  n,    435, 

445. 

Roberts,  Robert,   192. 
Rodda,    Richard,    154  n,    192,    212, 

236,   257,   300. 
Rogers,    James,    237. 
Rolle,    Richard,   of   Hampole,    143  n, 

178,    211,    244,    294,    314,    377, 

414,   443. 

Romanes,  G.  J.,  103. 
Rousseau,   34,  42,  48,   63,   87,   111, 

124-26,   134,   164,    165,   166,   175, 

393 ;    Confessions,   47  n,    51,   52. 
Rufinus,    55  n,    56. 
Rutherford,  Thomas,  193,  316,  324. 

Sabatier,  cited,  309,  310,  311. 

Sadler,  cited,  308. 

Sainte-Beuve,     C.     A.,     Port-Royal, 

cited,   7,   122,   253  n;   quoted,   36, 

145. 

St.  Cyres,  Pascal,  quoted,   274. 
Saint-Martin,  L.  C.  de,  208,  374. 
Salimbene,  Fra,  215,  224,  233,  263, 

286  n,     290,     314,     451  n,     467, 

474  n. 

Salmon,  Joseph,  260,  293,  321. 
Sanctity,    360,    361,    365,    430,    431, 

436-37,  444. 
Sand,    George,    cited,    445  n ;    Ober- 

mann,  13. 
Sansom,     Oliver,    190,    233,    285  n, 

289. 

Saul,    King,    422. 
Savery,  William,  255. 
Sayce,   cited,   21  n. 
Scaramelli,   S.   J.,   cited,   84  n. 
Schelling,    112. 
Schieler-Heuser,    cited,    24  n. 
Schimmelpenninck,       186,       201-02, 

233,   320. 

Schleiermacher,  E.,   190,   239. 
Schopenhauer,     Arthur,     cited,     91, 

112. 
Schouvaloff,     Gregoire,     186,     241, 

263,    313  n,    317. 
Schurman,  Anna  van,  186,  233. 
Scott,  Job,  233,  252,  320. 
Scott,  Thomas,  207,  244,   261,  312. 
Self -consciousness,    91  ff ;    the    Ego, 


91,  99-100,  277;  personality  and, 
93^,  277;  definition  of,  100. 

Self-study,  63,  402,  405;  candour, 
42,  152-56;  and  mysticism,  98, 
106,  413;  scientific,  109,  116, 
166-68,  175;  modern,  409.  See 
Introspection. 

Seneca,   87,   405. 

Sewall,    Jotham,    237. 

Shadford,  George,  151  n,  205,  237, 
258. 

Shaler,   N.   S.,   210,   245. 

Shelley,    34,    51,    128-29,    390. 

Sherburne,   Andrew,    207,    260. 

Shillitoe,   Thomas,   190,    212,   242. 

Simeon,  Charles,   210,   244,   254. 

Sidis,  Boris,  Suggestion,  quoted 
281-82,  286. 

Simon,   George,   215,   216. 

Sin,  254;  Unpardonable,  263-69; 
Augustin  on,  266;  as  a  survival, 
267,  268,  477-79. 

Sincerity    in    autobiography,    8. 

Sinclar,  George,  Satan's  Invisible 
World  Discovered,  cited,  218  n 
221,  459  n,  487. 

Smith,  Elias,  242,  298. 

Smith,  Frederick,  214,  242,  246  n, 
250. 

Smith,  Joseph,  157-58,  180,  213, 
240,  251,  292-93,  321  343  n 
358,  379,  381,  387,  38S,  428, 
437,  439,  442,  443,  443  n,  445, 
465,  473. 

Socrates,  Apology,  54,  405,  425; 
his  daamon,  59  n;  attitude  to- 
ward, 74. 

Sophists,    77,    80. 

Soul,  405;  size  of  the,  76,  441- 
42;  Greek  idea  of,  77-79;  mediae- 
val ideas  of  the,  347,  348;  wan- 
dering of  the,  347  ff,  350,  353, 
424-29,  430;  Roman  ideas  of  the, 
411,  425  n;  savage  ideas  of  the, 
425  ff. 

Southcott,  Joanna,  197,  214,  239, 
263  n,  294,  343,  346,  379,  381, 
387,  388,  437,  465. 

Speech,  relation  to  thought,  44-45. 

Spencer,  Herbert,  65,  134,  165, 
414,  418  n;  Principles  of  Sociol- 
ogy, cited,  167  n,  424  n,  480  n. 

Spencer  and  Gillen,  cited,  444. 

Spinoza,   Benedictus,    110,   487. 

Spring,  Gardiner,  225,  240,  260, 
293. 

Spurgeon,  C.  H.,  193,  207,  244, 
261. 

Staniforth,  Sampson,  154  n,  192, 
242,  264,  286  n,  300,  324. 

Stanton,   Daniel,   235. 

Stephen,    Sir    Leslie,    54. 

Stevenson,  John,   207. 


INDEX 


561 


Stevenson,  •  Robert  Louis,  quoted, 
19,  477. 

Stigmata,  savage,  444;  mediaeval, 
196,  218,  444. 

Stirredge,  Elizabeth,  190,  202,  233, 
320. 

Story,  Christopher,  191,  255,  316  n. 

Story,   George,    237,   258,   324,   467. 

Story,    Thomas,    235,    256,    298,    306. 

Subjectivity,  development  of,  54, 
66,  86  ff ,  98  ff,  129  ;  tendency  to- 
ward, 61,  405-08;  the  Sophists, 
77,  80;  trend  in  literature,  81, 
113 /;  in  religion,  404 /,  408. 

Suggestibility,  during  conversion, 
282-84,  469  ff;  among  moderns, 
444. 

Suggestion,  466,  469,  477;  in  con- 
version, 151,  281-86,  293,  299, 
300,  376  ff;  theories  on,  281  ff. 

Surin,  Pere,  220-21,  324,  377,  381, 
388,  433,  435. 

Survivals,  chap,  x,  430,  450  ff,  456, 
486;  Unpardonable  Sin  as,  268, 
477-79;  individual,  456-57, 
465  ff,  467,  468  ff;  witchcraft  as, 
457^7,  459  ff,  462  ff. 

Suso,  172,  189,  202,  222,  233, 
252,  289,  314,  318,  346,  368, 
376,  380,  414,  437,  443,  474  n, 
484  n. 

Swedenborg,  14371,  145,  177,  179, 
213,  226,  230,  240,  253,  291, 
324,  383,  428,  438,  442,  443, 
465;  spiritual  diary,  164,  214. 

Symonds,  Italian  Renaissance, 
cited,  54  n. 


Tabu,  416;  Unpardonable  Sin,  478- 
79. 

Taine,   H.,   quoted,    97,    168. 

Tauler,   John,   261,   291,   368,   377. 

Taylor,  Jeremy,  Holy  Living  and 
Dying,  cited,  75  n,  85. 

Taylor,  H.  O.,  The  Mediceval  Mind, 
cited,  60  n,  62  n. 

Taylor,   O.   A.,    192,   238. 

Taylor,  Thomas,    154  n,   286  n,   299. 

Tennant,    Thomas,    192,    324. 

Teresa,  St.,  48,  145,  165,  175,  186, 
202,  224,  226,  233,  247,  252, 
284,  289,  315,  318,  342,  344, 
355,  359,  365,  369,  380,  383, 
387,  388,  391,  423,  426,  427, 
428,  429  n,  432,  437,  442. 

Tertullian,   55  n. 

Testamenta.     See    Confessions. 

Theophilus    of    Antioch,    55  n. 

TherSse,  188,  197,  238-39,  250, 
262,  294,  320,  357,  378,  381, 
431,  474. 

Thomas  of   Cantimpre",   433  n. 


Thomas,  Joseph,  207,  225,  243, 
259. 

Thomas,  N.  W.,  cited,  422  n,  425  n, 
441,  444. 

Thomson,  W.  H.,  Brain  and  Per- 
sonality, 92  n,  276. 

Thompson,    Francis,    331. 

Thought,  relation  to  speech,  44-45. 

Torry,    Alvin,    192. 

Tolstoi,  51,  186,  211,  241,  252; 
My  Confession,  312. 

Trance,   424  ff,   445,    467,   485. 

Travis,  Joseph,   192,  236,  257,  264. 

Trevor,  John,  143  n,  164,  189,  208, 
239,  262,  264,  320. 

Tucker,  Sarah,  235. 

Turner,  Joanna,  261,  322. 

Tylor,  E.  B.,  65,  91,  418  n,  419; 
Primitive  Culture,  quoted,  78- 
79,  85,  347,  368,  418  n,  420, 
422  n,  423  n,  424  n,  425,  430, 
431,  432,  433,  435,  436,  437, 
438,  439,  442,  443,  445,  449, 
450,  451,  456,  457,  465,  483  n. 

Ubertino  Da  Casale,  115,  294 
315  n,  318,  321,  356,  368. 

Underbill,  Evelyn,  332  n,  334;  Mys- 
ticism, quoted,  274,  284,  336, 
338,  339,  340,  341,  345,  346, 
353,  354,  372. 

Unification,  88,  334,  344,  346,  347, 
355,  437. 

Unpardonable    Sin,    263-69,   477-79. 

Van  Der  Kemp,  202. 

Varani,  Baptiste,  209,  254,  286  n, 
292,  319,  324,  357,  364  n,  368, 
473. 

Vaughan,   H.,    355;    quoted,    176. 

Vaux,  Jean  de,  217. 

Vedic   confessions,    22. 

Vernazza,   Baptista,   315,   346,   357. 

Vestigiary   memory,    459-61. 

Vestigiary  survival,  453,  455  ff, 
459,  468-69. 

Victor,  St.,  Hugo  of,  62,  92,  95, 
114,  189,  350,  352,  369,  413  n. 

Victor,  St.,  Richard  of,  133,  Benja- 
min Major  and  Benjamin  Minor, 
De  Contemplatione,  quoted,  84, 
92,  96,  114,  349,  350,  352,  360, 
361,  369,  413  n,  426,  427,  437, 
463. 

Villa,  cited,  95;  Contemporary 
Psychology,  quoted,  98,  100. 

Viterbi,   L.  A.,    168. 

Voice,  285,  286,  297,  300-01,  307, 
352  ff,  384;  of  God,  437,  441, 
443,  458,  485 ;  of  the  dead,  437- 
38,  439-41. 

Voltaire,   393,   482. 


562 


INDEX 


Vows,   435. 

Voynich,   Mrs.,  The  Gadfly,  43  n. 


Wabose,    Catherine,    291,    373,    422, 

443  n. 
Walsh,     Thomas,     154,     193,     206, 

243,    257.    299-300. 
Ward,  Mrs.  Humphry,  cited,  131. 
Ware,    Thomas,     154  n,     192,     206, 

246  n,    258,    467. 
Watson,   The  Philosophical  Basis  of 

Religion,  quoted,   10,   247. 
Weeks,      John     H.,      cited,      425  n, 

478  n. 
Weininger,  Otto,  Sex  and  Character, 

quoted,    90. 
Weir,    Major,    218  n. 
Wentz,    A.   F.,   The   Fairy   Faith  in 

Celtic     Countries,     cited,     430  n, 

437  n,    441  n. 

Wesley,  Charles,   154,   206,   324. 
Wesley,    John,    142  n,    145,    148-50, 
-    153-55,   177,   180,   191,   199,  211, 

221  n,    240,   247,    253,    304,    311, 

317,  323,  388,  414,  434  n,  486  n. 
Westermarck,       Origin      of      Moral 

Ideas,  cited,   22. 

Whatcoat,   Richard,    237,   258,   299. 
Wheeler,    Daniel,    190,    205,    242. 
Whiston,  65. 
Whitefield,  George,  151  n,  154,  155, 

187,    202-03,    240-41,    252,    255, 

264,   289,   312,   414. 
Whitehead,   George,    191. 
Wigham,   John,    190,    212,    235. 


Wilde,  Oscar,  63,  De  Profundia, 
34,  136-38,  165,  214,  401. 

Wilkinson,  Robert,  154  n,  205,  258, 
264,  439. 

Williams,  Isaac,  203,  213,  233-34, 
320. 

Williams,  Richard,  206,  243,  246  n, 
301,  304,  424  n. 

Williams,    William,    190,    300. 

Wilson,    Thomas,    234. 

Wilson,  William,  192,  237-38,  260, 
322. 

Windelband,  quoted,  27,  90;  His- 
tory of  Philosophy,  cited,  62  n, 
77  n,  81  n,  87  n,  96  n,  109  n, 
110,  llln,  122. 

Winthrop,  John,   207. 

Witchcraft,  216  ff,  412,  442,  486; 
contagion  in,  219-21;  epidemics 
of,  219,  457,  466;  witches'  Sab- 
bat, 219,  459-61,  462^7,  465, 
468 ;  survival  and  revival  in,  223, 
268,  457-63,  466;  memory  in, 
460  ff,  462. 

Wood-Martin,  Elder  Faiths  of  Ire- 
land, 430  n,  438  n.  442  n. 

Woolman,  John,  153,  212,  234, 
251,  312. 

Wrede,   cited,    309. 

Wright,   Duncan,    192,   243,   258. 

Young,  Brigham,  157  n. 

Young,    Daniel,     154  n,     243,     258, 

423. 

Young,   Jacob,    192,    205,   257,    299. 
Young,  Lorenzo,  157  n. 


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